The Arrangement
by elsac2
Summary: Thursday are days Michonne dreads. Although, the growing excitement, which she feels at meeting Rick Grimes every Thursday may change everything. How complex can an arrangement be? richonne dark fic
1. Chapter 1

**I normally don't write Michonne even though I'm a hardcore fan. However, RaptusMind (Michelle) wanted a richonne story. Therefore, please be kind to me.**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

 **thanks to my beta dejede**

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 **Prologue: Thursday number four.**

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The clock chirps at 9 p.m. Michonne runs around the mansion's corridors. She can't be late because her life depends on the meeting. Regrettably, she had a previous engagement, which resulted in her lateness. The young woman walks as fast as she can with her six- inch tight silk dress, which she wore, complicates the process of moving her legs. Discomfort in her dress is a small price to pay when she compares it to the rest of the night.

He has his preferences and she makes sure to respect each of these.

As she runs, her dreadlocks spill out of her bun. The temptation to take off her heels is strong, but Michonne knows better. He likes it when she wears those uncomfortably high shoes. Although, he does adores when she wears them as they fuck. Eventually, Michonne reaches the mansion's last floor. Today, it is notably tranquil. There are no armed men running around or covering perimeter.

Michonne reaches for his room's ebony door and she opens it. She looks around the luxurious room. He is not inside. Her heart dilates and she feels better than she did previously. She takes a minute... preparing herself for the night. She walks into the room and sits on his California king bed. The mattress sinks and welcomes her body.

Michonne closes her eyes and she releases a shaky breath. It is the fourth Thursday.

Nothing is easier. She is anxious and frustrated. A little excitement appears in that mixture of emotions.

The clock displays 9: 02p.m. Now he is late. She hears a few sounds coming from the corridor. They aren't empty anymore and his men are filling them.

Michonne closes her eyes for a little longer. She takes two more minutes to regulate her breath. She can do it. She did it three times already. Consequently, what's a fourth one? She stands and starts freeing her locks from the tight bun, which keeps them on top of her

head. When the door open and a stream of lights enter the room, her hands freeze mid- air.

His scent invades everything before he enters the room. Michonne's body becomes rigid.

Her heart beats tenfold faster and she places her hand on her breast to soothe her nerves. She no longer knows what provokes her reaction to him. Perhaps, it is his threatening aura or maybe the is a jumble of emotions, which range from fury, passion, and shame.

Michonne's arms fall to her side and she forgets to undo her bun. She stares at the crack between the door and the doorframe. She expects to see him. However, she only hears his rich and rustic voice while he snaps orders to his men. His hand held the doorknob and she observes his fingers, which twitch due to anger.

The young woman stares at the light playing on his tanned skin and flexing muscles. Her heart threatens to spring out of her rib cage.

Excitement grows and replaces the anxious atmosphere. Her mind may dread the process but her body craves him. Michonne takes another deep breath when she hears the door closing and she recognizes his shadow moving around the room. There is nowhere to run. The fourth Thursday and thoughts of their arrangement unleash panic upon her fragile emotions.

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"You're late." These are Rick Grimes' first words when he switches on the light and his eyes find Michonne.

The young woman doesn't explain her tardiness nor does she excuse herself and he doesn't expect her to do it. The situation connecting them is complex. Silence facilitates the process. Rick prefers to hearMichonne's voice when she says his name.

Tonight, he intends to make her lose her voice in the process. Rick had an awful night and he

looks forward to this Thursday arrangement. They stare at each other. In less than a minute, he assesses her body completely. She is as breathtaking as he remembers.

"I prefer them down." His finger hooks around one of her free locks.

It is the same scene every Thursday. She has a list of his requirement, but somehow, she always breaks a rule. Ricks likes her rebellious nature. Since the first time he met her, her rebellious side caught hisattention.

He went to her apartment looking for something else but she happened to be there. The cold metal of his wedding band presses on the soft flesh of her warm cheek. With a rough tug on her hair, he undoes her bun.

Dreadlocks spill around his fingers. He has a fist full of hair and he tugs on it until she faces him.

"Better." Rick hisses and leans down to recover her lips with his.

The kiss is aggressive and demanding. Michonne's lips are bruised and slightly

swollen. This candid view of her captivates him. The unadulterated desire which paints her features when he breaks up the kiss.

It is rewarding. He knows she is biting her tongue, so she does not cuss him out as she did beforehand. He lets her hair slide through his fingers. His eager hands sit on her shoulders and he starts a soothingrotation of his thumbs. She slightly parts her lips with which she draws each of her soft sighs. She is beautiful when she is ecstatic.

"Let get it over with." After their heavy kiss, the atmosphere is still charged, and her voice is less nonchalant than she wants it to be.

Words meant to convey annoyance suddenly sound like a pitiful cry for more. Rick will be happy to oblige. He tilts his head to the side and unbuckles his belt.

"The princess speaks. If you're so eager to be done, then go on." As the words leave Rick's mouth, Michonne tongue replaces them.

Rick's forefinger rests on her clavicle notch while his little finger randomly dips into her

breast cleavage. His knuckles lazily brush against the naked flesh around her dress' collar. He looks at the beautiful confusion in her eyes. He understands her battle and her reservation regarding him. He isaware of the reality of their situation but being between Michonne's legs absolves Rick of his guilt. He is not a good person nor claims to be one, yet he was once in the distance past.

"I'm not staying tonight." She continues as if he never spoke.

Rick simply cocks an eyebrow. She never stays. Accordingly, why does she feel the need to say it? He does not really care if she stays tonight or leaves. This thang is not meant to be more than a beneficial arrangement for both parties.

"I wouldn't expect you to." His voice is a mere whisper that doesn't cover the rippling sounds made by her dress pooling at her feet.….

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….

Rick's hands rush to her shoulder and he presses his lips to Michonne's glistening skin. His left and right forefinger hook in her bra straps. He relishes the feeling of her soft skin and presses her half-naked body against his body. He crushes his mouth on her neck and his tongue darts out to suck on her sweet flesh. Michonne shivers under Rick's caresses.

Ultimately, the young woman succumbs to the tormenting call of abandon. Trying to open his shirt, her fingers hold on his buttons even though, she achieves nothing. Rick recovers her hand and guides ittoward his pants' waistband. He undoes the buttons of his shirt and throws the offending article on the ground.

"Slowdown Princess." Ricks tangles his finger around her locks. He slightly tilts her head back with a small tug on her nape.

He intends to take his time tonight and he needs this moment. Michonne gasps due to the brisk movement causing sudden sharp pain.

Soon, tender fingers are massaging her scalp

until she cannot help but moan. Pleased with her cry of pleasure, Rick smirks. Finally, he hears her voice.

When he uses his taunting tone, Michonne cannot help but peer at his changing cyan eyes. The sudden domineering aura around him intoxicates her senses. She tries to resonate with herself but the tonguethat grazes the pulsating flesh of her neck disorients her mind. The words of rebuttal die on her tongue and she swallows a moan when his teeth graze along her jaws. Her shame and frustration die slowly.

The sensation of his warm breath teasing her sensitive skin in tandem with a slight pressure of his thumb on her neck is sweet torture. It is enough to forget the intricate causes to why she meets Ricks Grimes every Thursday.

Michonne shivers in his arms with anticipation. She pushes Rick toward the bed. Her aggressive caress draws a subtle moan out of his lips. He never knows if she wants him closer or she is trying to keep him away.

As for now, her nails claw their way through his back. Michonne wants him closer. She wants more than taunting foreplay. Rick grabs her waist and drags them both down. His back hit the soft mattress and traps Michonne's finger. Rick's mouth again covers Michonne's. The kiss is deeper and aggressive. The sound of wet tongues echoes on the walls. Her last reservations about tonight die. She will think about her troubles later on. Now there is only the need to quench a growing thirst. His soft lips have lit a devouring flame in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers eagerly move on his smooth flesh. Her fingertips feast on the different textures... from his smooth skin to the slight rough patches of hair on his chest.

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Michonne's polished nails graze Rick's sensitive skin and she places little bite marks on his neck's unblemished skin. She does not

want to formulate the words due to her pride. However, she wants more of him.

Her finger runs around a bite mark on his neck and she leans to kiss him. His fingers slide into her hair. Rick pulls her head back up until he exposes her neck. His free fingers run around her fragile curvature and they suddenly close around the gracious structure. Her pulse caresses his fingers and bones trying to accommodate. Rick's tongue flicks over Michonne's laced nipple and he bites down.

Rick's teeth close around her lacy bra and he drags it down to free her perky breast. His tongue eagerly darts out to suck on the dark areola. She wants to swallow her moan. His touch should not feel sogreat. Instead of staying silent, she calls his name with a throaty voice.

The reasons for their scheduled encounters are far too dark and difficult. When his fingers pinch her nipple such complications elude her mind. She does not remember what brought her to this pit ofabandon but she

needs so much of him. Michonne pushes her panty to the side and places Rick's hand on top of her pulsating core.

"Tell me you want more tonight." Rick's voice is soft and he is cautious of what he says.

His lips graze Michonne's shoulder and trace a path up to her ear. Rick bites her earlobe and he pulls lightly to enhance her erotic pain. She feels his laboured breath on her neck. The air caresses her skinintermittently while he tries to hold a moan as her hand rubs his clothed penis. He presses his mouth to her neck. His teeth graze her feverish skin and leave behind burning abrasion.

Michonne's pride, or the very little of it she holds onto, stops her from verbalizing her demand. Rick can't win on every field.

Michonne looks directly in his eyes, blue clashes with confident brown. She demands more and she will receive more. Such arrogance silences any attempt to refuse her demand. Rick is completely turned on, and as for now, he is punishing himself. She puts her

hand on his waistband and she pushes the pants and underwear down.

Rick's boner ? the entrance of her inner

walls. Michonne's walls tighten in reaction to the scorching contact between her aflame flesh and his stone hard cock. Her body tenses in anticipation but he makes her wait. He leans and kisses her neck. His mouth travels the length of her jaw to settle on her delicious mouth.

…..

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….

"Rick." She screams his name the way he likes.

It sounds like a cry of worship and a plea to avoid damnation. It is desperate and demanding.

Rick consumes her mouth in a leisurely way, tasting her with each tongue stroke. Michonne moans at each tongue's stroke and the head of his penis grazes her feminine core. There is hair tangling around exploring fingers. Hands

frivolously caresses skin and leaves behind burnt paths of passion. Yet it isn't enough.

Michonne wants more and he is not willing to give it her now. If she wants it, she should be willing to take.

"Tell me you want more tonight." His past words resonate in her head and echoes on his lips as near her ear as Rick repeats them softly "Fuck me, Rick…". She stutters when his hard dick presses her clitoris.

His steel blue eyes lock on her hooded brown eyes. Michonne read in them a victorious bragging, which changes the colour of Rick's irises into a dark blue. Despite a little annoyance for conceding, shedoes not care because he cannot take more than what he took. These Thursdays are slowly becoming a bubble in time where she explores her abandon. With a shallow stroke, he enters her and they bothrejoice in the liberating pleasure. He pushes slowly and lets her body adjust to his length and width. The second stroke is a burning caress on her walls. He

drives his member deep until Michonne feels a delectable fullness. His first thrusts are painfully shallow and a path of kisses from the corner of her mouth to the centre of her chest punctuates each of them. She moans and becomes eager for more. Michonne begs him to give her more but he ignores her misguided demands. The way her body shivers at his touch is a better measurement of her pleasure. The tremor of her flesh is a better indication of when she needs more.

"Rick…please." He adores her melodious pleas. He loves the way they fill the room and harmonize with the sound of their pelvises thrusting into each other." Louder Princess." Ricks groans against her lips and bites the lower one. Teeth grazing her harden nipples punctuates his long lazy strokes and his rough quick strokes are soothed with slow fingers squeezing her neck. He goes faster and she is getting closer to the implosion. Michonne gyrates and grinds her hips at the same pace with which Rick thrusts. Her moans after each thrust more are

desperate. With many powerful thrusts, she can feel the orgasm building, and suddenly he stops.

"Rick…" She does not want to open her eyes while she can still feel her orgasm build up.

Michonne puts her finger between her labia, desperate to finish but too proud to beg. A strong hand touches her finger and pries it away. Rick's mouth softly encloses her labia. Michonne hisses in pleasure and tries to push his head away. He nips her clitoris as a warning to behave.

Each lick brings rawer cries of pleasure. Rick's tongue penetrates the slit of her vagina. She pleads with him for more. Each raw cry for more is denied systematically and punished with a caress of her clitoris. Her hand violently tugs on his curls, so she can pry him away but the same hand maintains him in place.

His tongue digs in and out of her vagina relentlessly. His fingers massage the throbbing aches of her clitoris. She throws her

head back and closes her eyes. Only the rich and inventive profanities, which colour her language, cover the wet sounds of his tongue gliding over her labia. Although when it comes to screaming his name, the sound is marvellous.

Rick emerges from between her legs and she groans her indignation. Michonne's firm hand on the crown of his head tries to push him back down. He keeps stimulating her engorged clitoris with his thumb, but the pleasure cannot compare to what she has experience in the past few minutes. She eventually opens her eyes and looks at him.

He has a nonchalant smirk on his lip.

"Watch me." His tone is authoritative and she can't dare to disobey.

He makes his way back to her mound while placing open mouth kisses along her abdomen. He restarts his ministration and her brown eyes ecstatically watch him pleasure her. Michonne's legs start trembling as Rick repeatedly penetrates her with his tongue. She

doesn't mean to disobey him, but as the sensation in her body become unsustainable, she can't help but close her eyes and let the pleasure drown her under the constant wave of ecstasy.

Michonne feels tingles all over her wet skin. Electricity runs through her blood. She is so close to the edges and she needs that extra push to fall. Rick places his erected manhood at the entrance of her wall and restarts the motion of his hips. Each stroke is now emphasized and Michonne meets every of one Rick's thrusts. Her orgasm grows until it rips her apart. It is even better than the first time, three Thursdays ago. It is more consuming.

Michonne's body is pleasurably broken and sweetly exhausted. Rick's warm lips still kiss every inch of her skin. Shallow strokes keep her body in the in-between of Heaven and ecstasy. She distantly hears him reach his own completion.

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Michonne's eyes are heavy and she can't prevent a yawn from leaving her lips. The awkward moment when reality comes crashing in approaches. Now, she remembers what the arrangement means. Michonne removes Rick's arm from her waist and places it far away from her body. After the endorphins drain out of her systems, she remembers how strongly she dislikes this man. She also hates all thetroubles that he comes with. Shame takes more time to overwhelm her. She isn't supposed to enjoy his touch, but she does. Michonne yawns again and it is a sign to leave.

"You could stay tonight." Rick does not know what makes him issue the statement, but he regrets it instantaneously.

Michonne's reaction is a mixture of fear and consternation. There is bitterness in her eyes and she can't help but sigh.

"It isn't a demand." He groans frustrated and scratches his scalp. However, he cannot blame Michonne when he is the one who made everything between them a succession of demands.

The young woman does not answer. She stands and leaves the bed. Rick does not leave the bed until Michonne starts dressing up. He watches her retrieve her underwear and lights a cigarette to calm hisnerves after her clear rejection. Michonne picks her dress from the floor and she is already thinking of the horrendous "walk of shame". His men fill every corridor.

"Did he call?" Rick extinguishes his cigarette and slides on his pants. He no longer knows what answer he wants to this question. From their first encounter, the answer has yet to change.

"If he did, I wouldn't be here." Michonne can't stop the bitter truth.

"Yeah," Rick answers dryly, and just as simple as that, the night has lost its appeal.

"Next Thursday then Princess" he adds out of pettiness.

In the next twenty minutes, Michonne is out of his organized crime financed mansion.

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"Mommy is back, baby." When she says that sentence every Thursday after Rick, a little tremor shakes her voice.

Michonne picks her son Andre from where he was laying on the couch. She carefully navigates around the many toys spread on the floor. It will be a dramatic fall if her six-inch stiletto accidentally collides with any of his miniatures.

"Was he difficult tonight?" with her son well secured on her hip, the young woman focused her attention on the teenager, who babysat him.

Michonne opens her bag to pick a hundred dollar bill with her free hand and places it in

the babysitter's hand. She smiles at the teenager and starts leading her to the door. The young mother can't wait to enter her bathroom and to wash away the day.

"He cried a bit when you left. But just an hour later, he was playing happily until he fell asleep, Mrs. Anthony." The teenager answers, and she waves goodbye as she crosses the threshold.

At the mention of her spouse's name, Michonne tenses and offers a tight smile as she closes the front door. For the past month, she has tried to avoid all reminders of the past, which was merely two monthsago. She did everything in her power to erase Mike's presence in her life with the exception of moving from the spacious loft, where they lived for the past eight years. Fortunately, she wasn't staying in a home that she could barely afford by herself due to nostalgia. Staying in this apartment is part of the arrangement that she has with Rick Grimes.

Which arrangement may you ask? Every Thursday Michonne Anthony entertains Rick Grimes, the way he wishes to be entertained. Why? Because the poor woman has the misfortune to be married to Mike Anthony, a man who associated himself with the wrong and very dangerous crowd. Ultimately, it caught up with him and he did what he thought was fair for him. He left the city and ran away from his problems, but he forgot to take wife and child with him.

Mike's escape thrust Michonne's life into a downward spiral. She suddenly discovered the truth. For ten years, her husband laundered money for many mobster families, and the bastard thought it was a great idea to start embezzling part of it. Once they found out a target was on his family's back, the family that included Michonne and their son Andre.

Mike disappeared two months ago and the very next day, Michonne started to receive all sorts of threats. Eventually, on top of the threats, there were debts and bills to pay. The

comfortable life, which she knew for most of her adult life, started to slowly unravel. Yet, the hazard of poverty isn't the reason why Michonne has an arrangement with Rick.

Survival forced that arrangement. Mike brought the worst types of people into her life. Rick Grimes is the most reasonable one in the bunch, which says a lot if she thinks about the first time she met theman.

Michonne places her son in his bed and kisses his forehead. The little sleeping angel is the only reason why she even accepts these Thursdays. She has tried to work her mind around everything but Rick is the lesser of two evils. She still has a roof over her head, and Andre and she are still breathing. The threats have ceased. One day, she will receive a call from Mike, and she finally is able to walk away from the arrangement.

Michonne walks into her bedroom and notices the little red light on her phone intercom. She presses and listens

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." The terror in Mike's voice echoes all over her room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews, the follows, and favourites.  
**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

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 **Chapter I: flashback first Thursday**

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 **Around a month and a half ago**

Bip…Bip… Bip. The fire alarm announces another failure. Rick looks at the burned eggs, and his eyes travel the room to stare at the calendar. Two more weeks and his wife, Lori will return from her retreat. Until then, he has to continue making breakfast for his son but also avoid burning his house in the process. At the third failure and few water droplet falling on his head, Rick knows it is time to throw the towel. The next attempt to cook an omelette may end with a flooded home.

"Cereals?" a half-embarrassed Rick questions his twelve years old son, Carl.

The man walks up to the kitchen cupboard and pulls out one of the sugar-filled cereals. Rick has no idea how half of a breakfast process work, but he has the image of a good family man to maintain. Therefore feeding his son is necessary. When Rick pours the cereals in his bowl, Carl is sceptical of the alimentary choice made by his father. Although, the teenager doesn't voice it. He fears to vex his father when it is the first time Rick tries something so domestic.

At any given hour of the week, it is a rare occurrence for Carl to see Rick around their home. It is almost as if his father has a second home and comes for seldom visitations during the weekend. The teenager is not far from the truth, but like most people around Rick, Carl pins his father absence on a demanding nine to five job.

"When is mom coming back?" Carl asks while his father pours milk in his cereals.

The teenager is growing tired of cereal and frozen meals. In the middle of the third week of this lifestyle, he no longer enjoys it as much as he did ten days ago. To Carl's question, Rick stutters and offers a generic answer, which he gives to everyone around him asking where Lori is.

"Two more weeks to go. Remember she went to that wine retreat." The man regurgitates his wife excuses.

Lori is losing her touch and becoming too confident in her ability to fool Rick. Apparently, Rick's son shares his scepticism or he has suddenly joined the list of people knowing the truth. Carl cocks an eyebrow. When he notices Rick observing him, he covers his surprised expression with a faint smile. Lori Grimes is not a type of woman who enjoys retreat, but a wine one is a total giveaway. Retreat his ass, Rick is sure sexcapade is the term that fits his wife trip. Recently, His partner Shane also took a leave. How obvious can they be? Well if Carl knows, it is practically in the open now.

The liaison between his wife and partner is a secret of Polichinelle. Rick doesn't care enough to address it. His love for Lori has suffered the cruel impact of time and the complexity of his life. The small town boy was in love with the pretty girl next door. Although, he doesn't fit the stereotype anymore and Lori is a complex problem.

Through the years, Rick has ceased to care if everyone knows what his wife does in her spare time. Although, he never expected Carl to find out so soon, which may change a lot. His marriage and the white picket fence life is part of an act, which helps to keep his second life a secret. How ironic because he started his illegal activity to offer his wife the luxury she wanted. After few years, he discovered very little could satisfy Lori. Although it was too late to quit his side hustle, and he has moved too far up. From a dirty cop to cartel Boss. Rick Grimes overachiever that is he.

Therefore not being eager to attract all sort of attention on him, Rick doesn't intend to divorce and works hard to keep a clean image of a devoted husband. He surely doesn't understand why Lori hasn't left, because her liaison with Shane has lasted almost as long as their marriage. Perhaps, her incentive is the money, which she never questions the sources as long as it finances her eccentricities.

Lori's infidelities cement his image of the sweet person having a hard time in life. Shane happens to be so busy to hide his secret that he barely notices what goes on around him. Rick doesn't end his wife liaison because it is beneficial to him. No one suspects a detective living in the suburb as a possible leader of a cartel. Therefore, he can tolerate Lori and her antics. If it allows him to keep an eye on everything, His pride can survive the entire police department thinking is an unobserving fool.

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"We're both going to be late if you don't eat faster." Rick points at the clock on the wall and finishes his own breakfast.

The man is not eager to go to work, but luck may be on his side today. Recently, Rick started struggling with a delicate situation regarding his cartel. Some fool decided to rob him of a substantial amount of money, and we are talking about millions of dollars. A long year of hard work and collective efforts.

His pride is more hurt than his pocket. Everything lost because a man had the courage and the mental ability to cross him. Rick can't wait to have his hand around the man's neck and squeeze the life out the arrogant fool. However, he doesn't know where to start or at least he didn't know before.

Until yesterday, he had no clue how to go about fixing the mess the accountant created. The bastard, Mike Anthony a name he can no longer forget, suddenly vanished from the earth surface. Closed bank accounts, no known past and present address, no phone number, and nothing substantial enough to track him. Even Rick's resource can help track a man who purposely stands out of modern civilization. Rick does commend Mike for his intelligence, and how perfectly organized his exit is.

Fortunately, Rick and the business partner (who introduced the accountant to him) could trace a certain woman associated with Mike. Mike had no known family member. Although, the woman who Rick assumed to be his girlfriend also disappeared with him, which was an entirely new problem because it attached the entire situation to the saviours. Despite so many obstacles, Rick's luck turned when Merle Dixon, a detective who worked in adult missing person, mentioned a strange case.

A month ago, Merle dismissed the case. It looked like a classic thing, a man chose to leave his wife, and he is too much of a coward to say anything. However, when the missing person's wife received a smashed body part in a box, they needed to revisit the case. Suddenly, Rick had a lead, and he intended to follow it.

The possibility to have the wrong Mike Anthony was big. Rick didn't remember the bastard mentioning a wife. Yet, he remembers a girlfriend who was always around Mike. For Rick, it means nothing because similarly to Mike, he is not a faithful husband. Although, Rick is not the type to have a mistress, and he doesn't repeat his girls. Right or wrong Mike Anthony, it doesn't matter. There was a body part involved. As a murder detective who has no major case, it will end up on his desk.

"I'm done dad and we're already late." Carl throws his bowl in the skin and picks his backpack.

Rick stands and follows his son out of his home. He prays for an uneventful day, but the chances are minimal.

* * *

Working with Merle Dixon is a nightmare, and few times, Rick must refrain from expressing his anger. He has worked too long on his personality of officer friendly, so losing it because he bashed the asshole skull will be regrettable. The younger detective takes a deep breath and continues reading the file, which Merle gave him.

In eleven years of Detective works, Rick has never seen such a poorly filled file, and that includes all case files that he has falsified because he was the actual culprit. He expects to find some name, and then he can subtly retire from this case. After he succeeded to convince of the lab technician to take a bribe, the forensic result ruled out the organ as nonhuman tissues. Therefore, he is currently wasting his time. A time that he could use to make money or fucking. Both very rewarding activities and he is in dire need of sex more than money.

"When is she supposed to present herself?" completely exasperated, Rick glances at the detective facing him.

He has grown bored with the paper works. There is nothing helpful through this poorly written report, and he can't attach a face to this Mike Anthony because Merle managed to lose the victim's picture. Yet he already started to sabotage the case by tampering the evidence. Impulsively, Rick throws the file across the room, and it hits an empty desk. Today may be the day when it does something regrettable and destroys his cover.

However, the Mike Anthony situation is deeply frustrating him. It is too much money and too many people involved. Mike laundered money for multiple major cartels, and whoever gets him first will be able to keep a real fortune. Although, it isn't the major thing Rick is after. Rumour has it Mike's girlfriend, the one who disappeared has stolen something major from the Saviors. Whatever that thing is, it will be a source of trouble. It may help him take down the competition.

Merle cocks an eyebrow and he is ready to make an unrequired comment on Rick's behaviour when a click of heels interrupts him. A woman stands in the doorframe of the empty room. Because he rests his head on the desk, Rick hears her before he can see her. He has never heard sophistication in any voice until the present event, and her words sound like a smooth caress to his ears. She sounds sexy and angelic.

Rick raises his head eager to find the source of such melodious sound. He loses his ability to breathe when he lays an eye on her beautiful silhouette. Curvy yet tone at the same time, very few inches of her skin are visible. Although, it is enough to dry his mouth. In front of the detective stands a beautiful woman. A woman so beautiful that her physical description with common words will result in every sort of inaccuracy. Sadly, he is not one for poetic shit. No words of his poor vernacular will do her justice. Although, if he attempts to use a word to express his emotions then _fuck._

Rick's brain appears to be stuck on that word. Literally, he is eye fucking her and disrobing her every time his irises land on part of her sculpted body. He is unapologetic about it. Michonne notices his inappropriate look so as a defence she stares back at Rick. She challenges him with her stern looks. The young woman is unimpressed by his antics when he rearranges his manhood and maintains eye contact. Fiery lights shine in Rick's mischievous eyes as he appraises her plastic. More than anything, he wants her aware of his thought.

He is supposed to be repentant when she catches him, officer friendly would be. Yet, Rick can't bring himself to care about his cover because this woman has steered the alpha male to the surface. It becomes harder for Rick to control his instinct. His first reaction to Michonne is purely animalistic and strong primal desire.

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….

Rick looks at Merle for confirmation that the perfect woman exists, and he hasn't started to hallucinate because he is bored. The other detective extends his arm to greet the woman. She must be the missing person wife, so Rick chastises himself. The Atlanta PD is not his hunting ground. Although, wouldn't he risk it all for a woman so beautiful? He hasn't had a good lay in so many days, and this woman will be perfect.

Clearly, his body and mind are in symbiosis. The craving to possess Michonne leads to a dangerous amount of hormonal releases. His manhood has started to require more blood, which explains why he dumbly stares at the woman. Michonne extends her hand and waits for him to greet her back. Unfortunately, his brain lacks a good oxygenation and can't decide the normal thing to do. Therefore, Rick continues to lust on her until an elbow in his ribs brings him out of his reverie.

"I'm Detective Grimes, and this is detective Dixon." Rick ultimately takes her hand and greets her back.

Her skin is so soft and her hand is quite small with slender fingers. Embarrassingly, he takes too long to free her hand. When she greets him with a soft uncomfortable smile, Rick blushes. Here, officer friendly is making his comeback. She tenses when he continues to hold her hand and starts caressing the edge of her thumb.

Her muscle contracting under his touch is the incentive necessary for Rick to let go. He sits and decides the less he interacts with this woman the better for him. The detective is acting out of character, or at least out of the shell personality he created. If their interaction continues, he may decide arbitrarily that he has to possess her at some point in his life.

"Take a seat, Mrs Anthony." Merle starts the conversation.

Although he tries to keep his distance, He senses a compulsion to look at her. Her skin is so satin-like, and he wishes his fingers could graze her arm. Rick shakes his head and tries to clear his mind from these sexually romanticized thoughts. After few minutes spent looking at Michonne as if she invented sex, Rick concludes he needs a long and great fuck. His current two weeks of abstinence are clearly influencing his sexually virulent reaction to this woman. Generally, He is more in control of such impulse.

….

…

…

..

Due to a disoriented and inappropriate thought process, Rick misses a big part of Merle's interrogation. To catch up with the conversation going on around him, He practically has to kick Michonne out of his mind. Which is hard to do when his eyes focus on her moving plump lips. So many unholy thoughts when the moment isn't opportune. Rick's timing to reemerge is perfect because Merle has started to cross the politically correct lines.

"How convenient is that, and I hope you're not attempting to waste this department time." Merle's tone is condescending and extremely disrespectful.

Rick who intended to take a backseat starts to reconsider his position. Merle will destroy his chance to find anything during this interview. His racist point views have managed to taint his perspective. Rick clears his throat to draw Michonne's attention. The young woman is staring at her trembling hands. Rick notices the constriction of her pupils and how her irises, which were previously soft brown are now as black as charcoal. She is trying to resist her impulse to slap Merle. He will pay to see it happening because he understands the feeling. He may even do it too if the bastard continues talking to his girl this way.

"I apologize for my partner rudeness, but…" Rick decides to intervene before Michonne finds a way to be arrested for attacking a police officer and ruin his future chance with her.

He questioningly rises an eyebrow expecting Michonne to complete his sentence with her name. It will take her head away from the confrontation with Rick circumstantial partner. In addition, he believes her voice has erotic properties. Therefore, he has a craving to hear her speak.

"Mrs Anthony." She answers absentmindedly and continues staring at Merle murderously.

"Michonne" Rick emphasizes her first name with a breathing pose. He will be damned if he uses the name of another man to address this woman, who soon will be his.

The use of her first name owns Rick a frown and ultimately she focuses on him. She can't very much ignore the way he extends the vowel of her name. The homicide detective feels better when her attention is on him as it should be. It is a bit too early to have such possessive attitude with a stranger. Although, Rick is used to having who and what he wants. It does look like with each passing second, he wants Michonne.

"We submitted the organ, which was sent to you to the forensic lab, and it is a pork eye. Now…" Before he can expand on the subject a frustrated Michonne interrupts him.

"Does it change the fact that someone sent it to me? Do I look like a person going around eviscerating animal?" Michonne stops to speak for a second when she notices that Rick interpreted her words as an open permission to leer at her. Although, technically he will justify his roaming eyes as the process of him establishing if she could attack an animal.

"No ma'am, you look like a sweet proper thang. A princess type of woman." He runs his eyes up and down just to confirm his statement.

Incredulity morphs Michonne's expression in a confused frown. Rick doesn't retract his statement nor looks apologetic for crossing some type of protocol. Although, mentally he thinks princess is a fitting pet name. She is probably a pillow princess, who only has experienced the missionary Jesuit sex. He will enjoy her so much.

"Detective, why am I here if you already have an opinion on the situation? Do you need to tell me one more time why it is realistic to suppose my husband left? After all, that is very common for people like me." She fires up many questions until she is breathless.

Michonne tries to ignore Rick's shameless display of lust and while saying the last sentence, she angrily stares at Merle. She is wasting her time with those two detectives. Michonne has a temper, which makes its apparition at the wrong time. She starts antagonizing the only man who intends to be of any sort of helpful, even though he has ulterior motives. Fortunately, her feisty and unapologetic nature wins her extra point with Rick. If the man was any sort of sentimentalist, he will swear he has a sort of instantaneous infatuation with the woman. He may have no sentiment but he has a raging boner.

"Well, he will not be the first colored to do so. A man emptying his closet full of designer suits and taking his prized possessions. It doesn't take a genius to come to the right conclusion…" After a long period of silence, Merle happens to think it is appropriate to share more of his bigoted view.

Michonne has reached her limits, and it is a matter of seconds until she launches across the table to slap the detective. However, Rick snaps before she does. He won't have the reckless detective ruins his meagre chance to find a way out of this Mike Anthony misadventure. He seats and loses some of his nonchalance in the process.

"Merle OUT." He shouts out of patience and through every word, his natural aggressiveness pours out.

…

…

…

…

Before the other detective can oppose, Rick's posture is intimidating, and he has already slid a hand behind his partner's nape. Merle perhaps senses Rick's ability to inflict life-threatening injuries, and so he does as the younger detective asks. He throws a last bitter look at the couple left in the office. Rick blows out some air out of frustration. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to slow his mind. Yet he is failing to snap out of an anger who has been in a build since his failure to do a decent breakfast.

"Detective?" Michonne's voice is so soft and she recovers his hand with her to catch his vacillating attention.

Rick is unsure what did the trick. Her worried soft voice echoing in his ears, or the softness of her warm hand pressed to his hand. It doesn't really matter because he has never snapped so fast out of an anger crisis. She must have some magical power, and he isn't immune to it. Rick is half-convinced, this case is about of different Mike Anthony because he can't see a man walking away from this woman. Her husband is probably dead somewhere, and it is for the better because Rick's mind has started to visual all sort of relationship with this woman.

However, after few more question, Michonne's answers prove him wrong. It is the same Mike Anthony. While looking at the graceful woman leaving the room, Rick has to admit some men are not only reckless, they are also stupid. Through his exchange with her, he discovers Michonne is a woman hopelessly in love, and she is loyal to the core. She is also extremely smart, and the detective noticed how she retained information. She was suspicious of him. Accordingly, Michonne omitted information when he insisted on a question.

Somethings, which he discovered are of no relevance in the way he intends to deal with the business part of this situation. However, Rick has a problem, which he has to solve eventually. In the lapse of an hour, his body has managed to convince his mind that he deserves Michonne for the trouble her husband created. It is only fair punishment and retribution.

There is no way in a world where he has any sort of power a man gets to keep his money and a woman he wants. Rick racks his mind trying to find a permanent solution to both problems. Until then he will follow the little lead Michonne offered.

* * *

It took a week and all of his agitated brain, but Rick has it figured out. The thoughts of Michonne haven't left his mind. It is a sort of obsession. The woman has called to report much more threat, but she has received no help. However, Rick has followed few leads and worked out who was behind the current threat on her person. It is no one big or no one as dangerous as him or those to come when they discover Michonne's link to Mike. Therefore, he plans to exploit his advantage.

Michonne is such an obsession to Rick. She has started to become a haunting thought, and he isn't one to fight impulse. He misses her as if she is his. Therefore, he believes he has finally found a solution to most of his recent troubles. If he feels this way about the woman, chances are she has the same effect on her husband.

For a woman like Michonne Rick would come back and risks his life in the process, and so will Mike if he has an ounce of reason. Therefore, Rick needs her to trap him. Although, he needs some sort of control and ability to manipulate her. He has worked most aspect of this plan.

Rick's car stops in front of Michonne's building. He assumes the money, which Mike made through his illegal activities paid for this fancy apartment. Rick has looked through Michonne personal finance and it is laughable. The bastard who she calls her husband stole a fortune and didn't think about providing a mean for her to survive. She has started to drown in debt now that Mike's incomes are no longer accessible. Rick may as well propose her to take care of her financial issues, but she appears to be too proud. Perhaps she may be to in love to want to betray her husband.

The detective parks his car carefully because he has a precious package in the trunk. He peruses his surroundings for any suspect individual. If someone was able to send her threat then chances as someone else may also watch her. The detective impatiently makes his way to Michonne's floor.

He doesn't know what he is more excited about, seeing her or cornering her into a metaphorical dead space. The strength with which he knocks at her door conveys his excitation. He waits for a second until he can hear light steps. The door cracks, but she doesn't open it fully. It isn't going to be as easy as he wants it to be.

….

….

…

…

"Hello." Her angelic voice greets him and he still loves how she sounds so soft yet so sexy.

Michonne doesn't fully open the door. Recently, she started to live in constant fear, and she may not know it but Rick carries some of the blame. Despite the fact that he didn't issue any threat to her life, Rick prevented her complaint to reach any detective with professional ethics. He also gave the man threatening her enough time to terrorize her. From the letters to the different body parts that she now receives every hour.

Michonne is tired, and she no longer seeks external help. Which Rick's aim is. She is at the breaking point where he wants her to be. She wouldn't be able to refuse anything he offers to get her out of her misery. She will just need to betray her husband once he tries to call her.

"I'm with the Atlanta PD, we met a week ago. Detective Grimes" He sounds pleasant and charming

Rick even wears his sweetest smile. However, Michonne is not falling for the act. She has grown suspicious of any police officers. Her experience with Merle and at some extent Rick has made her wary of the law enforcement. Her fingers hold on the door, and her grip around it tightens until her cuticles hurt. The temptation to close the door is strong. Why would he choose to visit her in such ungodly hours? After some of the questions, he asked during her interrogation, Michonne is sceptical about Rick's goodwill.

"Yes, how can I help?" She offers hesitantly.

With her body, Michonne closes any space, which allows a glimpse inside her home. Her instinct just picks Rick's aura. She senses something strong, and he doesn't bother to hide it. Rick doesn't like extra hours. After 5 p.m., his mask falls and being detective Grimes becomes pointless. He takes a deep breath and continues to push the angle of the helpful police officer.

"It is about your case of missing person. Can I come in ma'am?" He tries to pursue with his lies.

Rick doesn't like to conduct his business in the open. There are too many prying eyes and spying ears. He is paranoid, but the trait has saved his life multiple time. His charisma and authoritative nature limits Rick's ability to convince Michonne. She instinctively knows the man can't be harmless. Although, the way he looks at her, also help Michonne understand some of Rick's intention. Michonne holds on her door tighter. She isn't falling for this act. He appears to be edgy, and she can see him setting a trap.

"My son is sleeping so I will prefer if we have the conversation here." She counters softly.

Slowly she is pushing her door. Just a few more inch and she will be able to close her door. Rick notices what Michonne attempts to do. Indeed, she is a smart woman, but he has the advantage to know how to play such games. Rick subtly slides his foot between the doorframe and the door. If she tries to close it, then he will just have to overpower her.

"It's a sensitive topic." He answers without commitment.

"More sensitive than what the previous cop told me or in the same range. In both cases, I will prefer to have this conversation outside." Michonne doesn't give up, and Rick only reaction is a smirk.

"As you wish princess. We have a breakthrough and will appreciate your cooperation." He no longer tries to soothe her.

"Can't it wait for a decent hour?" Michonne argues, and she tries to push the door and close it.

Although, Rick's foot stops it from closing. She frowns but doesn't attempt to do it again.

"If it could wait I sure wouldn't be here, perhaps we can get over it with." Rick places his hand on the door.

The atmosphere becomes tense. Michonne challenges Rick with a stare, which the detective chooses to ignore.

"Can I do it in the morning? like I said my son is sleeping, and it is too late to find anyone to watch him." Michonne tries again to get out of the situation with Andre as an excuse.

"Here, I thought you cared about your lover, princess." Rick snorts, and he tries to ignite the temper that she displayed last week.

The results are immediate, and Michonne stupidly steps out of her home. In her fury, she walks closer to Rick, and she expects him to back down. Her forefinger starts pocking his chest when she delivers an angry tirade, which summarizes her frustration with the police.

"Is rudeness part of your police training or are you all trying to give me incentives to sue your entire department. Your partner is an openly racist redneck. And who are you? A sexist cowboy who thinks he can give me a pet name and tell me how I should care about my missing husband." She hisses with a finger digging into his tone muscles and twisting his denim shirt.

Michonne is so furious, and so she doesn't notice how with her long step she has eaten all the space between them. She is walking right into Rick's arms. When she raises her head to look at him, she stares at an enflamed ocean. Her nose grazes Rick's one and his breath tingles her shivering skin. Musk, blackcurrant, and galangal saturate the air around Michonne. She is so close to him, and consequently, his scent transfers on her skin as if they had sex recently.

Her hand is the only thing separating their bodies. Her extended finger can no longer take the pressure and it flexes. Michonne chest finally collides with Rick's one. When his eyes drop to stare at her bare legs, His lips curve in a satisfied yet hungry smirk.

"Something along those lines, princess," Rick whispers against her neck and his lips brush her goose bumped skin.

The warmth of Rick' body engulfs Michonne. Strangely, the natural heat emanating from him soothes her nerve, even though the atmosphere is electrifying. With a smooth motion of his hand, Rick succeeds to close her door and traps her between his body and the hard surface.

Michonne wants to take a step back, but every of her movement creates friction between their bodies. She can't move her head without having her skin graze his beard or lips. She closes her eyes trying to avoid Rick's one. She presses her hand on his chiselled chest attempting to shove him out of her personal space, and she feels muscle contracting below her finger.

His arm is fast enough to circle her waist, and he lifts her from the ground. To save her spine from an imminent compression by the doorknob, Michonne has to arch and wrap her legs around Rick's slim waist. She has no time to complain when he pushes her further into the door hard surface. Therefore, they are out of sight if someone passes.

Panicked, Michonne screams, and she starts to call for help. Having both of his hand filled with Michonne's body part, naming her back and ass, Rick recovers her mouth with his lips. It takes a second before she notices that he is kissing her, and another second to register that she is returning his kiss.

Therefore, when she attempts to bite him so he can free her mouth, she ends up pulling on his lower lip. Rick pushes her further into the door and his tongue darts out to invade her mouth. Later on, she will blame it on surprise, but her tongue matches the joust his tongue starts.

….

….

….

….

"Now I'm going to put you down and if you try to scream, I won't be as gentle." He ultimately frees her lips, and his hot breath caresses her swollen lips.

Rick's mouth is extremely close to Michonne's earlobe. His fingers dig into her naked thighs and his thumbs brush the hem of her babydoll. She has to wrap her thighs strongly around his waist so she doesn't fall. Rick loosely holds her back. Because they are moving backwards, she needs some sort of balance. Michonne dreadlocks are falling like a heavy curtain all over Rick's visage. Michonne's emotions are overwhelming, and the past weeks' stress explains this out of character behaviour. Tonight is the apogee of an unexplainable month.

Rick drags his lips along her jaws and his arm along her thighs until they stop on her silk covered bottom. He manages to press her back against the elevator door, and his erected manhood pocks her. The door opens and they both stumble inside. The elevator isn't empty, which is why Rick doesn't put Michonne down. Public display of affection has the power to distract people from evident things. The false intimacy, which Michonne and Rick display forces everyone around them to look away.

Michonne is panting and she tries to regain her bearing. She is disoriented, and it takes few seconds until she notices they have moved from the porch of her apartment.

"Now princess think wisely before doing somethang stupid." He once against whisper against her lips because the people with them in the elevator are staring. Michonne who wants to shout for help stops when she sees the determination in Rick's eyes.

"I can be a lot harsher in the way I handle you. Are you going to cooperate or do you need any more incentive to do so?" He whispers in the hollow of her ear.

Michonne nods her head and she expects him to put her down now that she has accepted to be obedient. Although, Rick doesn't let go of her because the intimacy between them makes everyone in the elevator feel like an imposing presence. There are eager to get down and avoid looking at the couple. Rick simply switches their position. Due to the abrupt movement, she places her hand behind Rick's nape to maintain her balance. The tips of Michonne's nails rub Rick's hairy skin and it almost pleasurable to the man. He is now leaning against the elevator wall.

Michonne entire body has fused with Rick's one. Her nose nuzzles in the crook of her neck, and his scent starts to imprint on her flesh. They spend the entire elevator ride lock in a weird embrace. Ultimately, Rick puts her down when they are out of everyone sight. He drops her near his car trunk. Michonne has a strange reaction to the loss of contact, and her fingers hold on Rick's shirt for a second. Rick glances at her fingers, but he says nothing. He knows people have a weird reaction when they are under duress.

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…..

"Do you know him?" Rick opens his trunk to reveal a bloody body.

Shallow breaths escape from the almost unresponsive frame and this is the only reason Michonne knows the person is alive. Inside the trunk, blood has dried and rot because of the heat. The smell itself is strong enough to turn stomachs. Although, the humidity in the air worsens everything. The decaying scent and rotting blood odour are suspended in the air. The wounded man's paradoxical breathing disrupts the silence. Michonne heart is beating at a rhythm, which threatens to provoke a sudden death. She tries to peer through the broken bones and the abrasions.

Michonne can't take the sight. Bile rises and travels through her throat. Knowingly, Rick steps to the side, and Michonne vomits her dinner. She steps back and glances at Rick. Her thoughts are expressed all over her face. She is looking for an exit. Rick's arm one more time circles her waist, and he drags her closer to him. She tries to shove him away and kicks him with her leg. This time, Rick does right by his promise. He grabs her arm and twists her body, in a manner such as her back presses his front. He twists her arm until she stops moving.

"Now princess you're going to take a deep breath." Rick's hand covers her stomach, and his head rests on the crook of her neck.

With the caress of his hand up and down, he controls her breathing until she no longer hyperventilates.

"What I have in stock for you is relatively less painful if you chose to cooperate." He speaks in a very calm tone.

His voice ranges into a sort of velvet and huskiness. It hardly sounds like a threat, but Michonne knows the implication behind his words.

"So let's try this another time. Do you know him?" he insists and drags her to the trunk of his car.

"No…" she stutters even if she doesn't look at the body.

Rick's hands frame her face and he turns her so she can face him. He looks into her eyes and searches for something he knows she has, courage.

"Take a better look. Princess" the tone is soft and supportive.

Although his grip on her face is strong. Michonne nods and closes her eyes for a second. She just wants to escape this moment. What has her life become?

"Do you know him?" his voice is a signal to open her eyes and return to reality.

"Perhaps…I don't know." She tries to step back from the car.

Although, her inability to stomach the scene no longer cause her agitation and hesitation. Her fear results from recognition. She knows the man, and he is no stranger to her. He is a good friend to Mike and a work colleague. The man always spent days and nights around Mike. However, Michonne doesn't know the worth of this information. Therefore, it will be safe to omit it.

"Why does it matter if I know him?" she questions too boldly and it betrays her. She sounds defensive.

"If he'd your murder planned then I will like to think it matters." Rick throws out nonchalantly and Michonne's mouth falls open.

She is shocked and starts one more time to panic. It doesn't make a sense. Why would one of her husband best friend, Terry, try to kill her? A tear starts to form in the corner of her eye. He can't support her distress. Rick brushes a rebel dreadlock away from her face, and his knuckles graze the warm surface of her inflamed skin. He takes her cheeks between his hands and tilts Michonne face. He peers into her scared brown pupil. Good, she has finally understood the gravity of her predicament.

"He worked with my husband in the same accounting firm." She finally stops lying but she also doesn't extend on how close both men where.

"Now that's better princess." He closes the trunk and leads her back to her apartment.

* * *

When he enters her apartment and strolls around as if he owns the place, Michonne has no strength left to argue with Rick. In less than half an hour, Rick explains the chaos, which Mike created. there are no needs to expand on how dangerous the situation is for her. During the past week, Terry has terrorized her. In spite of everything, when he proposes to Michonne a way to fix her trouble, she hesitates. He assures her that Mike will call at some point, and she should prioritize herself like he did.

Partially, the arrangement is Michonne's idea. To the way Rick looks at her, She isn't oblivious. If she correctly isolates the clues, the man lying in his trunk almost dead is a sort of courtship gift. Michonne needs the assurance that she will see another day, and she can't forever wait for a phone call. If Terry is ready to murder her, so many more people have the same intention. Therefore, the words slip out of her lips before her mind can properly rearrange them.

"You want me?" Michonne isn't questioning his desire, but she is asking how much he wants her.

She is thinking with the most animalistic part of her brain. It is all about survival and in such moment drastic decisions are made. As an answer, Rick tilts his head. He wonders where she wants to go by static obvious fact. She is hesitant to pursue what she started with her question.

Rick leans back in a sofa and waits for her to decide what she intends to do with the knowledge. Michonne has a small dose of power. He already has told her what he needed her to do. Simply wait for Mike's call and then reports to him. If Michonne does it, she will not have to worry about Rick's cartel. Although, it doesn't guarantee her safety because Mike screwed many people. Michonne is a brilliant woman. She knows if Rick is able to find her, then anyone who has any personal grudge against Mike can do the same.

Michonne stares at the clock, and it is midnight. The night is passing from Wednesday to Thursday. The young woman takes a deep breath and she hooks her finger to strap of her babydoll. She pushes it down and hooks her finger in the other strap. She does the same. The babydoll pools at her feet.

The yellow lights in her living room slide on her skin and leave a golden hue. The contrast of her pale blue underwear set and dark skin is mesmerizing. Rick's palms burn with the eagerness to run his hand along her flesh. The detective posture is more nonchalant and through hooded eyes, he stares at her.

"I have few conditions?" She walks up to Rick and slides her hand in his curls after she stands between his parted legs.

She doesn't know where she finds the courage, but the desperation silences her scruples. She opens one of the buttons his shirt and runs her tongue from his clavicle to the centre of his sternum.

"You don't decide when nor the frequency, but you can choose how you want it." She compromises while she sits on his lap.

If she chooses the frequency, she won't have to do it as much as he , she will retain a certain agency. Rick knows how bad the deal is. However, he craves her so much, and now with her nails scratching his nape, he can't really think clearly.

"So…" she bends and her lips graze his lips.

Her full breast pressed to his denim covered chest. So many barriers exist between her smooth skin and his exploring hands. Rick closes the distance separating their mouth. Accordingly, they have an arrangement. Michonne slides down his lap like a feline creature. Her hand plays with his belt and rubs his thighs. she teases his erected dick with a torturous pace, and she undoes his zipper with her teeth. He looks at her while she astounds him with her boldness. She slowly puts his penis in her mouth sucking on the soft cotton of his boxer brief.

she wraps her hand around his engorged manhood, and she peers up. Lost in a magical daze, Rick stares at michonne. Her brown pupils lock on his ecstatic blue eyes. she never breaks eye contact as her tongue rolls around the tip of his penis. her plumps envelop his cock like soft starts going up and down until Rick cannot grow harder. His hips thrust down her throat almost choking her.

He grabs a fist of her hair and guides her. ultimately, her mouth loosens, and she starts to take more of him. Guttural moans leave Rick's mouth. Michonne removes her panties and grabs Rick's hand. She presses his hand to her inner thighs and helps guide two of his finger in her warm wet core. He coats his fingers with her juice and eagerly sucks to get a taste of her. umami, as a flavour.

Michonne settles on a Thursday every week, and Rick decides on the how he wants to fuck her. That fatidical first Thursday, he fucks her on the floor. With slow powerful strokes until she can no longer use her leg. Michonne lies on a cold floor for hours with aghast eyes. Guilt suffocates he soul. The following Thursday, Rick comes with a list of exigencies. he is extremely attached to her hair. Why does he like her hair down? The first time she moaned his name reverently, her magnificent dreadlock were spread over the immaculate floor of her apartment. He thrust deep into her and assaulted her walls viciously. Rick pulled a fist full of hair, and Michonne cried his name for the first time.

9 p.m every Thursday because she never intends to spend the night. It continues for three more Thursday and almost become a routine. A routine, which a red light on the intercom disrupts.

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please."

 **please review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to everyone who followed and added to your favourites.**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

* * *

 **Chapter II: endless fourth Thursday**

* * *

 **Early Thursday 4.**

He wakes up disoriented, and he still tastes her on his tongue. Ultimately, he reaches for her. After surviving last night, he wants to hug her for dire life. His hands caress an empty bedside. Instinct picks up the hidden clues, and the bedsheets are cold. The entire night, no one was by his side.

She left hours before he woke up. Mike's curiosity grows, and a sentiment of dread refuses to abandon him. Last night was insane and perilous. The saviors found them. After running through dark streets, he and his girlfriend survived miraculously. Adrenaline still pumped into his bloodstream, and fear invaded their mind. Although, he doesn't believe she will not abandon him. He is loyal to her, and so she should be to him.

Yet, he feels sudden dizziness, and sweat drenches his forehead. The feeling is familiar, and his body feels like cotton wool. Mike is exhausted, but an abnormal kind of exhaustion. The young man throws his body from the bed. His knees wobble and are unable to carry him. As heavy as a stone in a waveless ocean, his body sinks to the ground. His eyes blur, and he transpires faster. The physical discomfort is familiar.

The bitch drugged me. His vacillating thoughts conclude.

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….

Due to his numb leg, Mike can't rise from the ground. On his back, he stares at the spiralling ceiling. For several hours, he worries about his fate. How did he finish in this mess? He has a wife, a loyal one who he abandoned. The young man doesn't know the actual time. He needs to leave the motel room before they catch up with him.

Mike knows he should have left Atlanta when he decided to abandon his past boring life. However, she convinced him to wait, and he trusted her. The young man couldn't doubt his girlfriend's loyalty. When Negan discovered his perfect fraud, she warned him and gave him a chance to survive the mobster wrath.

Now, Mike questions her motives to inform. Last night, the saviors were after her and not him. He didn't know she stole from Negan. The idiot thought she followed him out of her heart's nobility. She, Andrea, a woman who he never learned the surname.

With every step, which echoes in the motel corridors, Mike fears the saviors' arrival. For half a day, He can't move, which permits him a situation's analysis. How stupid was it to share the money location with Andrea? How stupid was it to enter into conflict with the saviors for her beautiful blue eyes? He told her everything when she never told him her surname.

Andrea was mysterious, and she wasn't boring. Now, Mike regrets his boring husband and father life. He told the blonde bitch everything about his embezzlement, but she didn't explain why the saviors were after her. He doesn't know what she took from Negan. Last night, he discovered how much trouble she was. With each second, his hope to see Andrea disappears.

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….

With a galloping heart, he wonders if she took every single penny. Mike tries to calm himself but fails. Incessantly, His thoughts remind him of the danger lurking in the corner. He needs a way out, or he is going to die. As a lost and confused child would, He starts sobbing uncontrollably. Heavy salted pearls roll on warm inflamed cheeks, and he chokes on waves of tears clogging his vocal cords.

He regrets the day when he confidently took out every single clothes from the closet, which he shared with his wife. Eagerly, he walked out of his flat, and he didn't leave a letter or an apology for Michonne. Mike has a wife, a boring loyal one. Boring but loyal, that is his Michonne. Tears slide on the corner of his face and break on the dirty carpet. His mind skips to his wife, and there is a burgeoning hope. Michonne is always on call.

With conviction, he crawls on the rough carpet. The rough stained light beige material scratches his naked flesh, and the remnants dirt from the previous room's occupant cling on his wet skin. Through a Herculean effort, Mike drags the pants, which he discarded on the floor mid-coitus. Desperately, he digs through his pocket. For now, his pockets are empty. His wallet disappeared and with it, the access to the money. The rental's key is unfindable. Endlessly, Fat ugly tears fall on Mike's face.

The bitch, she can't do him this dirty. Where is his phone? Mike's heart threatens to stop. If he doesn't die from a heart attack, the saviors will finish the work.

Desperately, He continues digging into each pocket, and he searches into some pocket twice. Ultimately, a cry of hope leaves his lips. He fishes his mobile phone from the back pocket. Fingers press each number so desperately that the screen may crack. With shaking fingers, he hits the call option. The first ring starts, and it's endless. Michonne is unavailable. When it announces to Mike that his correspondent is unreachable, the automatic voice sounds like a mocking god.

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...

...

An irony, Michonne has always been reachable to Mike. Although, Michonne is doing some reaching of her own. Her hands are running down Rick's back, and she is reaching for his erected manhood. She faintly hears her phone ringing. Mike calls her multiple times, but there is only endless ringing. At the time of his calls, Michonne is having sex with Rick Grimes. A situation, which is another consequence of Mike's stupid decision to run. Tired of the interruption, Rick switches off her phone.

...

...

...

Until his cellphone's battery drains, Mike continues to call for three hours. He writes a quick message, and he loses his hope. The sobs become ugly snotty tears. Alone and abandoned, Mike may face his death.

With desperation, Mike stares at the empty cold spot on the bed. A spot as empty as the closet, which he left behind in the apartment he shared with Michonne. Although, he cared more for his designer suits than he did for his wife and child. The young man feels life returning to his legs, and he stands combatively on four. He draws a deep breath and creeps to the bedside cupboard. He grabs the Motel's phone and uses his only free call.

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." Between sobs and panic, He forces the words out his mouth.

* * *

 **Thursday 4 approximately 10p.m.**

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." For a second time, she listens to Mike's pleading voice echoing in her room.

Rehearing the message doesn't clear her mind, and the repercussions of his voice on her psychic are unwholesome. The lights blur out, and objects around Michonne lose their original shape. She is mentally disoriented, and the pain extends to her body. She feels nauseous, and a bitter taste coats her tongue.

Her heart withholds blood, and her body becomes pale and cold. It is a small hypoxic death. Ultimately, her heart restarts to beat, and a sharp pain transcends her chest. Michonne voraciously gulps the air surrounding her fragile body. Anxiety is a familiar emotion to every unexpected situation.

Seeing through the curtain of tears is hard. Reddened eyes constantly move between her shaking fingers and her phone landline. Michonne has to decide. The young woman tries to breathe, but anxiety fills her lungs with lead. Her hands wrap around her throat, and Michonne starts to hyperventilate. What is she going to do? She never thought he would call.

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." She replays the message trying to find a solution, which will absolve her of guilt.

The room shrinks around her. Breathing is so hard. Claustrophobia is an emerging side effect of her anxious state. Her fingers flatten around the table's cold surface, and her eyes squint to stare at the phone. She searches for explanations and so much more. Perhaps, his message contains some indices. Perhaps, the way he breathes after each word may reveal the causes of his departure. Perhaps, it will help her to decide between calling Rick and helping Mike.

….

….

….

When Mike's voice fills the room, Michonne pictures her husband in extreme distress. She picks despair in the sound of his voice and the muffled cries. When she thinks he could be hurt, her generous heart stops. Calling Rick doesn't appear to be a great option. Michonne's panic worsens. Tears' droplets roll over her warm cheek and end their course on her open palms.

The sobs die where they are born, in her vocal cords. No sounds leave her mouth. In the past two months, she has learned to cry while Andre sleeps. Michonne has mastered the art of silent crying.

Two is Sixty days. It is 720 hours, but it is also 86,400 minutes or an outrageously grand numbers of seconds. If it helps to put in perspective how long she waited for any proof of life, the unit used to express time matter. Two months is a short period in a lifetime. When it is spent staring at a phone, it becomes an eternity.

Therefore, her reaction to Mike's message rightfully flirts with psychotic behaviours and compulsions. Irremediably, the two months changed her life and morphed her into a woman who she doesn't recognize. A call could have prevented everything. Rick Grimes will be out of her life. It means more than a call, and she will have to betray her husband. There lies Michonne's conflict.

"Hey, Chonne…" After she so eagerly tried to hear it again for the umpteenth time, Michonne interrupts the message.

Mike's intonation doesn't change, and it is still a pleading cry. When she listened to it for the tenth time, the words were still the same. Consequently, Michonne doesn't understand why she needs to hear it so many time. Yet, she continues to press one, and so the intercom replays the message

The young woman is doing it again. Like two months ago, when she started staring at their shared closet as a compulsive ritual. Perhaps with repetition, she will notice a difference. It didn't work with the closet. Ultimately, she admitted Mike left without a thought for her.

If she listens to it twenty more times, will she hear something she missed? There is no chance the words contained in this message will suddenly become a heartfelt apology. Although, Michonne can't help but press one again. She has flirted too long with insanity to act in a reasonable manner.

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." She hears the words echo inside the empty closet, where she sits on the floor.

It feels so much like a month before this arrangement distracts her mind. Michonne picks the phone, and silence her heart so her mind can protect her.

* * *

 **Thursday 4 approximately 11 p.m.**

He climbs the staircase silently, and so he will not disturb his sleeping son. Rick walks toward the room, which he shares with his wife. The detective will prefer to find an empty bed, but Lori is back from her retreat. She has the exact same glow that she has after every other week of a good fuck. Although, her husband can care less.

Tonight, he carries a similar type of token of a good fuck. He climbs into bed with Lori while he smells as Michonne does. The mixture of sexual scents with the perfume of the most exquisite woman covers his skin. The aroma hits Lori because of its potency, which stands as proof of prolonged contacts. It wasn't a quickie. The brunette stomach churns due to her blood pressure rising.

She notices the differences, but Lori refuses to acknowledge it. She has to reconcile the idea of sex with her husband. The same Rick Grimes, who is grateful after a blowjob. He will never seek external sexual pleasure. With aghast eyes, she stares at Rick. She must consider multiple options, which don't correlate with what she knows of her husband.

Rick works hard to keep a clean image. To everyone including his wife, he is sweetly innocent and the butt of the joke. Although, in the past month, something started to shatter. He finds it hard to pretend. Perhaps, because every Thursday, he has the possibility to unleash the animalistic part of him. Slipping back into the role of officer friendly is harder since he started to free himself.

Tonight, he hasn't bothered to take a shower before leaving the cartel's mansion. He didn't want to wash Michonne sweet sexual juice away. He needed a source of comfort. His emotional control has started to vacillate. Sex with Michonne has a bigger impact on him than he suspects. She was supposed to be a one-time thing, and Rick Grimes doesn't repeat his girls. Although, she clarified that she isn't his, except during few hours on Thursday.

Keeping her suave scent on him is a way to calm his frustration and a sign of melancholy. Thursday affects him in a surprising manner, and he submits himself to a sweet torture. Fucking Michonne is great, and it is addictive. As anything addictive, there is a level of tolerance from where it is no longer enough. Few hours every Thursday, to then crave her the entire week.

….

….

…..

Lori's accusing eyes are on him. Rick tries to ignore his wife while he discards his clothes. Every Thursday, he tries to sleep in the mansion. Consequently, he can avoid such situations. Although, it is harder to stay in an empty room when Michonne leaves. Tonight after Michonne unsubtle rejection, he could n't support the oppressing emptiness. Her feminine scent imprinted on the pillows was of no support. Although, the previous nights, her scent helped Rick reach an empty comfort. Melancholy can be a mock companion, but it is also a haunting feeling. Michonne is the centre of Rick's melancholy. She is a sort of comfort companion, but she is a haunting sentiment and an extreme need.

Those are the side effects of tolerance, and tolerance results in always seeking for more. Rick thought possessing her to some extent would be a solid fixture, and so he accepted the arrangement. He didn't foresee the hazardous consequences. He wanted a fuck, and she was willing to offer one. Truly, he believed a fuck would rid his system of a visceral craving. Now, four Thursday later and multiple ungodly touches, she is engraved under his skin deeper than any scars he carries.

Rick thinks of Michonne in his free hour, and he dreams of her in her presence. Does he care if her husband comes back? No, he can keep the money, and any shit related to whatever stupid mess, which he dug from himself. Although, he knows Mike will come back. Children are drawn to fire. Adult worshipped it for its warmth. It scares and fascinates animal. Unfortunately, Michonne is a raging fire. Mike is a spoiled brat, and so he will return. Rick is a bit of an animalistic adult.

The mixture of their sensual sweaty scents saturated the room atmosphere, and it drove him insane. Which is why he tried to find a balance in a neutral environment. Space, which has no association with her or him. It is the ultimate facade in his life. A protecting façade and now, he needs protection from his own mind. The home, which he shared with Lori, is an unexpected refuge.

….

….

….

When his blasé blue eyes meet his wife's one, Rick reconsiders his decision. From the second he met Michonne, he knew she would tear apart his world. Happy to allow her to steer the alpha male to the surface, he never expected it to happen so fast. When his shirt falls to the ground and reveals the red scratches on his back, Michonne becomes the first person to jump between his worlds. She is no longer only the cartel boss' Thursday interlude, but she is also officer friendly's dirtiest secret.

Lori stares at her husband back, and revulsion propelled to the surface the words on the tip of her tongue.

"Rick?" Her voice carries the indignant cry around the entire household.

Rick doesn't flinch and continues to disrobe. Perhaps, he is tired of the farce that has become his life. He hasn't left the room with Michonne. He hasn't digested the rejection. As for now, he is displaying the traces, which she left on him as a reminder of her. Lori's reaction can reassure him. He had her for few hours.

The brunette woman jumps out of the bed, and she expects an answer from her husband. Is it the wrong moment to find some humour to the situation? A cynical chuckle burns Rick's throat with the need to escape, but it dies on his lips. Lori's boldness and audacity are ones to write on many chapters. Did her shame cease to exist? Where does she find such ability to display indignation? Rick has to cease his musing, and the extra noise gives him a headache.

"If it can help you cope, sweetheart. You aren't the most discreet cheater in this house, Lori." He throws nonchalantly while he bends to collect his clothes on the floor.

Lori blinks as the sudden shock caused by Rick's statement. Her mouth and eyes dry. She swallows hard to humidify her throat, and her bravado falters. All questions, which she wanted to fire faster than a machine gun, tumble on her tongue. She stares at her husband back while he fills the basket of dirty laundry. Rick continues with his casual task as if he didn't drop a bomb on his shame of marriage.

"What are you talking about?" the feigned offence deserves an Oscar because even horror transcends her voice.

Not a single hesitation or any stuttered words, and Rick wonders how appropriate will it be to clap. People in his cartel will beneficiate from Lori's magnificent ability to lie. Sadly, her overconfidence will be her ruin. Rick ignores part of her question because he actually intends to sleep. Why would he argue about anything that wouldn't have major repercussion? He removes his boxer and throws them around the room. He slips his bare ass into his blue silk pyjama and returns to his bed.

"Rick?" Lori starts shouting, and she may as well broadcast for the entire neighbourhood.

The remnant of paternal instinct in Rick makes him glance toward Carl's room. He doesn't want his son to wake up, and so he decides to engage a conversation with Lori. He intends it to be brief. He goes for the jugular and hopes the haemorrhage will be fatal.

"Wine and soap retreats? Is that a thang you like now or dick has you thinking we all are dumb?" his sudden vulgarity shocks his wife more than the contents of his statement.

Lori gasps, but she doesn't counter his statement. Her retreat is the last thing that she expects to justify. She was in Vegas for a month. Shocked and disoriented, she stares at an unbothered Rick. If it wasn't for the threatening aura around him, Lori will think he is sharing fun facts with her.

"I pretend to be dumb, but I have never pretended to be unobservant." He stands in front of her and stares deep into the agitated sea that became Lori's eyes.

"Rick… babe…" She tries to justify herself but Rick's phone interrupts her.

Rick stops listening to her. Displeased, he stares at his phone. He expected this moment to arrive. Despite the expectation, when princess appears as the contact id, his anger grows tenfold. Lori continues her endless monologue by his side while he considers breaking his phone. At the umpteenth pointless justification from Lori, Rick loses it. His big head covers Lori's mouth and drags her down on the bed. He straddled her, and her shivering body sinks down in their fluffy mattress.

"Listen here and make sure it's clear to you." He hisses when she tries to pry his arm away from her mouth.

The aggressiveness emanating from him is palpable, and so Lori does as he asked.

"I didn't care before, and I won't care now. Don't act as if you're a betrayed wife, and I won't try to find who you fuck. Do your thang or go to more retreats. I will continue paying for your broke lover but stay out of my way. " He removes his legs from around her waist, and he stands. He picks up his call.

"Princess…" Lori hears while he travels the corridor.

Through her shock and the confused fog recovering her mind, the pet name sticks. Lori doesn't intend to abide a warning given by officer friendly.

* * *

 **Thursday 4 approximately 25 minutes to midnight.**

From his unique way to knock, Michonne recognizes Rick's signature. She drags herself from the closet floor and uses her thumbs to wipe her tears. Sinuous paths of dry tears taint her cheek with white strain. Her attempt to hide her tears is pointless. She slowly crosses her living room, and she confirms Andre is still sleeping. Her little angel is sound asleep. She draws a deep breath and convinces herself to go through betraying Mike.

She half-opens the door and finds a shirtless Rick leaning on the wall. She draws a sharp breath and stares at his tousled curl. Even the devil sleeps, and she can't help herself from thinking of him as a fallen angel. He does have the appearance of an angel, and yet possesses the malice of a fallen one. Rick's hand recovers Michonne's hand, which is holding the door half-closed. He pushes the door wide open and intertwines his fingers with her slender ones.

Rick drags Michonne inside her living room, and he stops when she is under the yellow light. He can fully bask in her ethereal beauty. The young woman is too exhausted to fight some sort of comfort. When he leans to kiss her, Michonne closes the distance. After a long lazy kiss, which carries an ultimate melancholy known to every end. She breaks their kiss with the last pull on his lower lip.

"He called, and it isn't Thursday." She reclaims her hand and puts some distance between them.

She knows her mind isn't clear, and she will attempt to find comfort anywhere. Through the Thursday interlude, there were some liberties. Although, she wanted to remember that she only abide by survivor instinct. With every touch, she felt an ounce of abandon, which disappeared under a mountain of problems as soon as his manhood left her eager core. Rick's body is an uneasy comfort, but still a comfort. It isn't surprising that she will seek it in a period of duress.

"He called." She repeats when he doesn't react.

Rick stares at her for a second and takes a spot on her couch. Eager to counter her statement, He checks his watch. The detective's nonchalance frustrates Michonne, and she walks toward the intercom to replay the message.

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." Mike's trembling voice breaks the tense silence, which suffocated the room's occupants.

Rick sits comfortably and opens his leg widely. He is a strange addition to Michonne living room. With the light filtering the different shade of his curls and reflecting on his pyjama silk pants. Michonne stops her pacing to stare at the vision he offers. In the past month, she has learned his body language. What she reads completely sets her off.

"You don't give a fuck if he called." She points accusingly toward him.

Rick's expression confirms her accusation. The frustration, which exponentially grew starts to dismember the control she has on her emotions.

"Why the fuck would you care, it is nothing but money to you." She restarts to pace back and forth.

Michonne grabs the nearest object to her and aims it at Rick. He dodges easily and fishes for something in his pocket. He glances at her peripherally because he expects another outburst of anger. He drags out a lonesome cigarette from the pocket of his pyjama. He lights it and continues to watch the woman have a breakdown.

"He could be dying, and like a dumbass, I called you." She continuous her rants and more objects are waltzing toward Rick.

"He called and you shouldn't be here. It's over, and this mess is over. " She speaks vehemently.

Her forefinger keeps going back and forth between Rick and her to emphasize which mess. Fully exhausted and emotionally drained, she stops pacing.

….

….

….

"I have twenty minutes until the switch to Friday, and I ain't wasting it on thoughts and prayers for your husband." He adds to the conversation.

Michonne stares at her empty living room until Rick's stoic voice drags her out of her imprisoning thoughts.

"Come here, princess." His voice carries a warmth, which doesn't match the character.

She is hesitant, and she doesn't know if she must expect retribution for her anger. Rick appears calm and sounds relax. Often, His external appearance of calm indicates the opposite of his internal emotions. When he continues to blow smoke's circle in her living room, Michonne doesn't know what to think. She cautiously joins him, and he places her between his parted legs.

"A cheating asshole isn't worth tears." Rick drags her down until she sits on his lap.

He drags his hand from her shivering arms to the dry sinuous stream on her cheeks. When the cold gold band grazes her skin, Michonne always reacts. With a complete knowledge of how bad and sinful their Thursday interactions are, she stares into his eyes.

"Yeah… talking from a point of experience." She answers with a lack of tact, which he knows to be characteristics of her boldness. Her eyes settle on his ring, and he smirks as an answer. Rick never disregards her sincerity, and it is a part of the things, which keeps him interested. She has a strong backbone, and he can try to break as he wants but doubts to be successful.

"What are you going to do to him?" Worriedly, she inquires about her husband.

Why pretend she doesn't care about Mike? She has shown her emotions, and she knows Rick perceive her as his possession. Therefore, she may have worsened her husband's fate.

"How I like it, and when it is convenient for you." He decides to ignore the conversation, which she wants to start.

Michonne still wears the dress, which she wore earlier, and her skin still carries his scent. Rick's nose rests on her neck.

"Are you going to hurt him?" The words resonate through her chest, and he considers giving a heartbreaking answer.

Rick repositions Michonne's body until she straddles him, and his hands roam around her hips. She is a raging flame, and he loves how consuming she is. Perhaps, he should lie to her, and then he would pretend to be a half-decent person. A person who wouldn't fuck her the entire night and kill her husband the next minute. The type of men, who women with great morals and generous hearts as her love. Rick Grimes is a man, who a woman like Michonne loathes. However, she can't really fight the primal attraction.

"I'm going to kill him. After you call him and find out where he is hiding." He confesses without any regrets.

She has fucked with the worst side of him. In front of Michonne, he comes bare. Which is why she is so addictive. The tears, which he forbade her to shed for a cheating asshole, start to fall. He glances at the clock. In five minutes, Thursday ends. Therefore, he has five minutes to have her in a way, which he likes. He wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her. At the first chirp to midnight, he presses a kiss to her lips. Her arms try to shove him away, and she rejects him as he expected.

Michonne calls back Mike, but there is no answer. Rick doesn't say anything, and so Michonne panics. What does it mean for her and their arrangement? She held her part of the bargain.

"It's over right?" She can't continue to be stuck in this arrangement.

She can't stand it, but not for the apparent excuses. She hates it because the arrangement draws to the surface dangerous parts of her.

"Yeah?" Rick drawls out and leaves her apartment.

Michonne stares at the closing door. With Rick gone, she can't help but run her hand over her lips. Never once has he touched her in a way, which didn't display sexual interest. Despite the fact that she hates the man to some extent, the soft caring touch perturbs her. She hasn't been on at the receiving end of such touch in two months. She lays on the couch where their arrangement started and seemingly ended. Michonne falls into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **Friday.**

A soft knock wakes Michonne, and she tries to retrieve some of her sense. Her thumbs clean her eyes and rub away the dry tears. She half crawls or half-walk to her door. She hits the table on her way, and it is enough to arouse her. In a fashion, which has become a habit, the young woman opens halfway her door, and she faces a mail carrier holding an extremely big parcel. Michonne is baffled. She doesn't expect anything or a parcel.

Michonne takes the package, and she has to drop it on the floor. She fails to carry it inside. She has to drag it because the content is almost unmovable. She picks a card on top and a white envelope. The young woman opens the envelope, and her heart starts to shatter. She freezes, and she is unable to hold it. The little object falls on the floor, and the sound of metal hitting a floor multiple times resonate through the entire silent house. Michonne stares at the wedding band that she picked for Mike, and blood recovers every corner.

She knows she should not open the box, but her morbid curiosity overwhelms her reasoning. A horror cry leaves her lips, and her knee can't carry her. She falls on her parquet. Panicked, she crawls away from the box, which contains her husband dead body. Heavy tears start to disrupt her vision, and her shaking hand brings the card to her sight.

"7 days…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

* * *

 **Chapter III: Friday Frenzy**

* * *

 **Early Friday approximately 1 a.m.**

Biker boots enter Mike's peripheral vision. Around him, they recklessly throw things. The saviours search through every cupboard and shelf. Suddenly, the motel room has secret compartments. They tear walls apart. Every time they find nothing, Mike has to suffer the consequence of their frustration. Tired and bruised, the accountant fears every noise and every sudden movement. What is going to be next? A kick in the stomach or a fist in the temples, it doesn't matter where he is going to receive the blow. His body can no longer stand the excruciating pain.

"I don't know…I don't know." The young man sobs helplessly.

Face pressed against the dirty carpet cover with a thick layer of dust. His skin is warm and feverish. Mike's blood stains a carpet, which carries stigmata of previous debaucheries. How many times does he have to deny his involvement in the robbery? They aren't willing to listen, and they want a name and a location. He has none, and he tries telling them.

Although his words are less audible. Mike attempts to plead for his life, but in their ear, his words are meaningless. A thief and a liar don't deserve trust. They assume he is both. The saviours intend to torture the truth out of him, and they are doing a great job at it. They are too heavy handed with the wound they inflict. There is no truth to beat out of Mike frail body, but there is a slowly evaporating life.

Four broken ribs and a broken jaw later, they aren't close to any sort of truth. Hollow cries escape from the man on the ground. Through tears and stutters, he fails to convince them. With a raw shaking voice, Mike begs. His survival depends on how convincing his words are. Unfortunately, for the last minutes, mike lost his vocabulary and eloquence. His jaw is too heavy to move, and Blood has filled his vocal cord.

"I don't have it…please… she did." Mike's slurred, and his words are lost to his assailants.

One of the bikers' backhand collides with the young man cheek. Mike's upper lip splits due to the strength of the slap, and blood splashes on his bare chest. Soft cries follow the attack and the man, who slapped him, laughs. The noise in the room ceases, and the hold on his neck tightens. The chilly atmosphere is tenfold colder. Because of swollen eyelids, Mike's eyes can open, but he has been in Negan's presence enough to pick up the distinct change.

…

…

…

"Let me see the fucker." He speaks with an irritable jovial tone, which doesn't match the moment.

With one swift and strong motion, they drag Mike on his knee. The young man can barely hold his posture with a broken column. His destroyed bone structure can't support the weight of his flesh. Taking a breath is hard, and a rib has perforated his left lung. When his body grows cold, he senses the invasion of death. He offers his mental clarity in exchange for a painless ending.

"I don't have it…please… she…s…he." The bruised young man breathes broken sounds, which are open to interpretation.

"Who is she?" There is a demanding tone cutting through the fake amusement.

Mike's ears buzz, and he doesn't understand the meaning of words anymore. Empty brown irises stare at Bikers boots. Life slowly is disappearing. When there is no answer to the question previously asked, the same biker boots rise to kick the young man face. Mike falls backwards. He has reached a threshold.

Mike's body is shutting down, and his sanity is the first thing to disappear. He is disoriented and seeks comfort. Flashlights blur his vision, and warmth soothes his muscles. It feels like being back in her arms. It feels like being in love with her again. Not the past month of boredom, which led to bad decisions. It feels like happy mornings. The young man feels dreadlock tingling his bare skin, and her lips on his. Why did he leave?

Negan crouches and grabs Mike broken chin through his fingers. Blood and saliva pour out of the broken structures, and hollow sounds leave the young man mouth. The mixtures of body fluids drip on Negan's fingers.

"Dry monkey balls, someone gets the man a bib. If I wanted to do extra hour I will be taking care of my kids." Obnoxious chuckles punctuate the words and Negan misplaced laugh fills the room.

"Michonne… Michonne… Michonne…Michonne" He repeats his wife name like a prayer, which leads to salvation.

The guilt of a dying man forces him to regret his past mistakes. Sadly, her name is the first audible thing Mike says. Negan's sharp hearing picks up the name, and he equates it to an answer. Michonne such an unfamiliar name, and so it is hard to forget.

"Who is Michonne?" He eagerly questions and drags a falling Mike back up.

"Michonne…Mi…chon…ne" Mike drawls on the last syllable of her name.

How he misses her warmth presently. Her smile is so warm and welcoming. The young man doesn't remember why he left, but he wishes he never did. Mike extends his hand and tries to reach for the warmth. The last attempt at stopping the fleeting moment of his life. Yet he can't, and so he starts to cry her name louder. Between sobs and choking cries, he repeats her name. The young man consciousness falters, and his begging cries of salvation are louder.

The noises annoy the saviours' boss. Negan has a name, and it is better than what he had beforehand. With a quick rotation of his shoulder, he takes a quick swig at Mike's head with his bat. Already in the brink of death, Mike's body falls into the ground. Blood continues to flow out of every wound until they stain Negan's boots.

It takes few more swing to split his cranium, but Negan continues smashing out of frustration, he loved those new boots. What Andrea stole will lead to the end of the criminal empire he built, and so there is more to fuel his rage. The entire room is silent with the exception of the sound made by cracking bones. Minutes ago, Mike's last breaths ceased to echo in the room.

The motel phone starts to ring. The entire room freezes and Negan walks toward it. He is too late to pick a call, but the caller left a message. He presses on the intercom and a beautiful feminine voice beams.

"Hey Mike, it's Michonne. Sorry…I didn't pick your call but I will help." A Cheshire smile spreads on Negan's lips while he listens to the hesitant woman. Now, he has a name and a phone number, which equates to an easy way to find a location.

* * *

Raw cries escape her lips. Blood drenches the corner of the box. Curiosity is a morbid sentiment. Michonne needs to know and she can't prevent the impulse. Helplessly, she witnesses her fragile movement. With trembling fingers, the young mother peels the layers of plastic bags, which covers the body. She needs to know, and she fears what she may discover.

However, she needs to know, or she will be unable to think. The odour is horrid, and it quickly embalms the living room. It burns her nostril and dries her throat. Tears spill from the corner of her eyes, and she coughs. The salty pearls blemish her smooth skin. She needs to know. Michonne peels another layer.

Another layer of plastic pulls away from the flesh. Her fingers accidentally graze the blood, which dried on the torn flesh. Nausea threatens to squash her stomach. She throws up clear liquid on her dress. Michonne gags at the smell, yet she does not stop her exploration. The young woman needs to know. Is it her husband? Rick said he will kill him, but she never expected to receive a box filled with his remaining.

It cannot be Mike. This broken and torn body cannot belong to her husband. She will prove it and silence her guilty conscious. Desperately, Michonne pulls on the plastic. Little pieces of skin detach themselves from the dead body and stick under her nails. She does not stop and she cannot stop. It is not Mike, and she will prove it. Her body shivers with disgust. Her heart constricts until the blood ceases to flow through her body.

The young woman holds her breath because the smell of death burns her lung's surfactant. Michonne unveils the body. When a mashed skull appears, she panics one more time and crawls away. She does not have to know, but her eyes find the bloody ring. She must know because Mike death ultimately affects the love of her life. He is Andre's father. She returns to the box and continues her painful exploration. When she finds an unmistakable birthmark on a shattered knee, the truth reveals itself. Michonne cries in horror. Screams pierce the close space of her living room. Andre peaceful sleep is disturbed, and the awaken child's grumpy tears join the anguish cries of his mother.

Michonne sits next to the box. A sentiment of dreads grabs her mind and drags it into a catatonic state. Andre's cries do not faze her, and she stares at the box endlessly. Alarmed neighbours knocked at her door, and she does not move away from the box, which contains her husband's body. Shock tetanizes her muscle. It is almost as if she is locked in her body, and only her eyes move to let fall tears.

After an hour of endless childish cry echoing through the building, a tired neighbour calls the police for disturbances. Two young officers knock at the door and the result is similar to the previous attempt. There are no answers, but they hear cries, which convey extreme anguish. Consequently, the officers stave the door and enter the apartment. The sight is as striking and shocking as the noise, which fills the four walls.

A young black woman with hands covered with blood, and she sat near a box as high as her in sitting position. The two officers draw their weapon on Michonne, and their loud demands had to the cacophony.

"Hands up and don't move." One of the officers shouts while his shaking finger barely holds on his gun.

Michonne stares at the men in blue who invaded her apartment. Traumatized, she misses the meaning of their words. The young woman sees the weapon drawn at her, but she cannot isolate the meaning of the situation in her mind. The officers continue to shout at her, but she refocuses on the box. Her slender trembling finger point at the brown box, and ultimately a breathy sound pours out her lips.

"My…husband… I… killed him" She stops for a second, and her disorientation is visible.

Both officers come closer to Michonne, and she does not flinch. Her shoulder continues to graze the box and her bloody finger points at the horror inside. Andre cries are louder and louder, and so they cover Michonne meaningless whispers.

"What did you say, ma'am." One of the officers asks because they did not hear her gauche confession of a crime, which she did not commit.

"My husband…" She breathes between silent tears and her finger continues to pock at the box.

One of the officers courageously comes forward, and it can help the cry of horror. The sight is worth a week of nightmares.

"Call central. We need homicide up and here." The young officer cries while he avoids revisiting a new version of his breakfast.

* * *

After his fruitless night, Rick is not eager to pick up a case. He senses his partner, Shane constant stares. The homicide detective is trying to track Mike's location with the number he used to call Michonne. Therefore, the last thing he wants is joining Shane on a new case. Although, he doesn't have a choice.

The streets are familiar to him. Most nights, he drives around to make sure Michonne is safe. He has man guarding her house, but he is extra cautious with her. He prefers to know what she does after she leaves him or at any indecent hours. It is partly protectionism and mostly possessiveness. When they take another familiar turn, he does not appreciate the sentiment of dread running through his veins.

"What's the address?" his tone is nonchalant, but his body reaction is visceral.

Thin layers of perspiration cover his forehead, and his fingers twitch. He opens the car window because the humid Atlanta's air worsens his distress. Shane takes a new turn and Michonne compound is in sight. Rick stares at Shane, anguish creeps under the surface. Too many scenarios, and a few minutes to analyse them. He knows she tried to help Mike, and you do not help this type of bastard.

"Shane, what is the address." The nonchalance has disappeared.

Rick's nervousness disguises in aggressiveness. Finally, Shane looks away from the road and focuses on his stressed partner. The young man frowns, and He remembers Lori's complains. Shane stares at Rick, and it annoys the other man. Rick takes a deep breath, and he thinks of how officer friendly can be useful if anything goes wrong. He has his fingerprints everywhere in his building, and they may even retrieve his seminal fluid in her.

There aren't many options of who can be a victim in this neighbourhood. It is a peaceful area, and having a husband who the biggest mobster in Atlanta are hunting makes Michonne the probable victims. Rick goes through his men, and he tries to think who was watching her. It was not Sasha or Daryl, and these are his most competent soldier. He rented three of the apartment in her building so he could watch her.

Now, Rick's thoughts are everywhere. His heart is beating at a fast pace. He will kill this bastard when he has his hand on him. It will be slow and painful. Rick does not commit crimes of passion, and killing is work-related. However, there is a beginning for everything. With Mike Anthony, he will take his time. The bastard should have stayed hidden. His teeth clench until his gums start to bleed. The detective continues to lower the car window until there is nothing to lower. Although, he does not cease. There is not enough air, and he is almost crying.

The anger cannot silence the core of his volatile emotion. She cannot die but with every building they pass, it appears to be the reason behind his presence in such a fancy neighbourhood. Michonne is dead. Rick forgets about the question, which he asked his partner. The car stops below her building. The young detective can take it anymore, and something has to break. His control over his emotions breaks. He grabs Shane by the collar and harshly shoves him against the car door.

Rick's elbow presses against Shane's throat. It is such a relief to unleash part of his anger. He squeezes and pushes until he feels his partner trachea move to accommodate the new pressure. Shane's eyes are aghast, and he supposes that his affair with Mrs Grimes is no longer a secret. However, Rick's next word makes him questions everything.

"The fucking address?" Rick hisses, and Shane is too shocked to respond immediately.

Although the pressure of Rick's elbow on his throat reminds him of what is happening. The young brunette man stutters.

"Building B, apartment 603." Before he finishes his words, the air is restored to his lungs and Rick speeds away toward the crowded building.

First Shane thought Lori panicked for nothing, but things may have started to change. After Rick temperamental implosion, he must find a way to confirm any suspicions. The young man follows his partner and wonders if he has to come clean about his betrayal.

….

…

…

He fears to cross the door of her apartment. From outside, he hears a young child crying, and it confirms his fear. A tremored hand lifts the yellow bend, which limits the entrance to the apartment. Panicked, his eyes latch on the blood trail staining the parquet, where they fucked the first time. There is a small crowd at the centre of living room. His legs are heavy, but he succeeds to unglue them from the spot where he stands.

"My husband… I" Rick hears the hesitant cry and he can breathe.

He pushes through the working CSI technicians and reaches the box. The detective stares at an anxious Michonne, and he wants to hold her. The young man wants to bask in her warmth. Accidentally, Michonne's brown irises connect with Rick's eye, and there is an instant recognition.

The bile and anger rise at once, while a magnetism pulls her toward him. Michonne wants to cry in his arm, but there is the strong fury, which crawls in her inside. Rick's presence near the box unleashes something fiery inside the young woman. It is strong enough to break through her catatonic stage. In a second, she slaps him, and her nails claw away on Rick's angelic face.

"You killed him." She cries hysterically, and she continues to assault the young detective.

Her anger fuels her visceral aggressiveness. She is all over Rick, and their skins cling to each other during each contact. The young man has a hard time controlling the furious woman, who repeatedly accuses him of murder. The entire room has to recover from the sudden outburst of anger. When they do, the officers shout at Michonne to cease, and they point their weapon at the young woman. Although, she does not care and continues to assault Rick.

"I will handle it." Rick tries to dismiss the officers around Michonne when he notices how many of them are unhinged.

It takes years of fighting experience to stop the young woman. When Michonne throws another punch toward him, Rick grabs her fist and yanks her forward. With a swift motion of his legs, he sweeps her foot off the floor. Michonne falls to the ground, and Rick places his heavy body on top of hers. He grabs her tights and circles his waist with them, and then he presses both of her arms up. He is tired of receiving kicks.

"Fucking calm down or make your son an orphan. The fuck do I care" Rick has no patience for any act today.

He presses her body deeper into the parquet. Releasing part of her anger appeared to have broken Michonne out of her mental instability. She spits on Rick's face, and she tries to shove him away. With his free hand, the detective holds Michonne face in place, and he forces her to look at him in the eyes. Passion takes advantage of a fluttering moment, and it makes them forget where they are.

"I didn't do it." He repeats multiple time and his finger slips through her locks.

He tries to soothe her with a slow caress and his thumbs grazing her cheek. She tries to overlook the effect of his touch, and she wants to hold on the anger. Rick rests his head on her shoulder and continues to whisper his truth. The angry tears are dry and she is as exhausted as he is. She cannot refuse to hear the irrefutable truth in his rusty voice. Through the Thursdays, she has learned the intonation of his voice. Sincerity always adds a richness to the rough grave sounds carrying his words.

Exhausted Rick rests his head in the crook of her neck, and he whispers for her ear only. His hot breaths cool her aflame and feverish skin. When he feels her body relax, Rick releases her hand. Once again, he looks into her clouded eyes, and fury still exists but the aggressiveness has died. She slides a hand in his curl out of habit and clinging gauchely at familiar comfort.

"I'm more the type to send roses than a dead body... I want you." He pants between words, and he breathes against her skin.

His breath makes Michonne's shivers. She gives up the fight subdued by his exhaustion, and louder tears follow. Michonne does not know where to seek comfort, and so her arms recover the body on top of her. She hugs Rick as if her life depends on it. With the strength left in him, Rick drags their joint body in a sitting position.

"Shush…princess." He repeats for few minutes until she can breathe between cries.

With a bit of reason retrieved, Michonne wants to push Rick away. Her body does not implement the decisions that her reason conjures. She breathes his scent. Her arms cling around his body, and she does not understand half of what she feels. Although for now, she feels safe, she hates him for the mess he brought in her life.

Once she is strong enough, her look contains a clear message. Rick's arms burn from holding her, and he has dreamed to hold her in a meaningful manner. Although, silently she has confirmed it will not be possible to take such liberty. He releases her, and the walls are back up. Michonne walks toward her son room, and she leaves him behind to deal with a new rejection. Rick turns to face the rest of the room, who does not know how to react. The little scene is too awkward to be explained, yet it raises many questions.

"What did you want me to do? Shoot a woman because she stared at a box containing her dead husband and satisfy your racist asses." Rick shouts frustrated at the officers staring at him, and he stands for the ground.

He walks toward Shane, who shares the same look as the other officers. Although, the other homicide detective dares to ask.

"What was that?" he spits with a suspicious tone, which further infuriates Rick

"Subtle police work. if you ever found out what subtle means." He answers and walks out to get some fresh air.

Shane stares at his parting partner, and he has his entire mind asking for responses. Something is wrong, and it may be an advantage to him. He glances at the door where Michonne disappeared and follows the young woman inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

 **Please, review**

* * *

 **Chapter IV: Holy Friday**

* * *

 **Early Friday approximately 2: 30 a.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

"Maybe it's time to stop sneaking around like teenagers." Shane echoes his thought, and he says the last word against Lori's lips.

After a deep kiss, the young detective tries to use tonight to his advantage. Perhaps, he has a chance to convince Lori. Ultimately, a divorce. If she doesn't want to divorce, Rick will. The young man is sure of it.

Although, Shane wants Lori to choose him. He doesn't want a woman, who his best friend has stopped to cherish. He is tired of being a man in his best friend's shadow. Absurdly from early childhood, He chose to compete with Rick. Lori is another trophy to win over Rick.

"Ain't you tired of this shit, and I want the real thing." Shane's voice expresses his bottled-up frustration.

The young man wants more than stolen moments with Lori, and he wants to parade with her on his arm. They have to hide in the room, which her husband pays for, or they run out of town during a trip, which her husband pays.

Shane will appreciate hugging his lover in an open space. Now, it will be inappropriate because she is his partner's wife. During the nights, which spent in her room, Shan stares at the pictures, which display the perfect family. Another of Rick's victory, which he envies.

"I have the real thing." The coldness of Lori's voice destroys his futile fantasy.

"Oh, you do?" His words don't express a sort of surprise.

It is the expression of pure bitterness, which has a corrosive effect on his inside.

Shane knows her reservation on the matter. Although, Lori's attachment to her husband is not one of the reasons. This liaison has lasted as long as her marriage. Shane wallows in misery, and he resents the detail, which regards the affair. Although, he directs his grudge at the wrong person. He associated with his partner's wife, but Rick deserves the blame because Lori refuses to leave her comfortable life.

"I have a family. You've nothing to lose." Without an ounce of empathy, she throws her truth in his face.

To punctuate her point, Lori breaks their embrace. She puts his arms to the side. For Shane, Her family stands in the middle of his love. He can tolerate her son, but Rick must leave the general picture.

In truth, Rick's fortune opposes Shane's fantasy love. Lori will not dump a providing husband to live on a miserable salary. She tried once, and she doesn't intend to repeat the experience. At least with Rick, she had her love for him to console her. Ultimately, she searched for the cheap thrill in Shane's arm. If he thinks there is more between them than a cheap fuck, the man is delusional.

"He is my partner. My childhood best friend, I ain't saying it's as big as a family, but he is the closest person, who I have to call family." The words are shallow, but he believes them.

"You should care more about how hurt he is going to be. We agreed when we started this thing. I wasn't giving away my family, and it hasn't changed. It doesn't matter how crazy Rick is acting nor what he assumes he knows. You want something more and I never told you I would give it to you." her sincerity is violent. She doesn't falter on any word.

Tonight, she doesn't cuddle him. The tone of her voice delivers the ultimate mockery of his feeling. Her argument with Rick was terrible, and she called Shane to empty her mind. She wants to entertain his foolish hopes.

To Lori, Shane is a hard dick, and she can't be clearer about it. What he chooses to fantasize about, he can't be blamed it on her. He is a sex toy, and she can discard him. She may have to do so in near future. Now, Rick has started to seek his comfort in other arms.

"I know…" Shane doesn't finish his statement, and he swallows the rest of his thoughts.

I thought you started to get around, and with what you told me, Rick did come around.

It is the opportunity to see her without having to steal the moment. It is a chance to hold Lori without arousing the suspicious or attracting the judgements. If he shows her Rick's flaws, she may leave him. Ultimately, she will have no options, and she will settle for him. When Lori is so adamant to be out of his reach, Shane considers new ways, which will help him lower her to his level. Perhaps, he should start to push Rick down the pedestal, where she has him standing.

* * *

 **Friday present time.**

 **:**

 **:**

Shane stares at his leaving partner, and he needs responses. Something is wrong, and it may be advantageous to him. He glances at the door, where Michonne disappeared. Ultimately, he follows the young woman inside. He finds her crouched near a baby's bed. Silently, he tries to observe her. Now, her poised nature clashes with the violence, which she displayed around his partner.

Shane stares at her back in a way, which is almost perverse. He lusts at the curvature of her bent hips and her full bottom. Long brown legs and a sumptuous body, she will attract Rick. It isn't a ludicrous idea.

The scene, which they displayed for the entire police force was too intimate to involve a perfect stranger. His detective's senses tingle. Why will she accuse Rick of her husband murder? When he faces many questions, there's an eagerness to pull the answer out of her mouth.

"Ma'am" Softly, he calls for Michonne.

Not recognizing the voice, Michonne tenses. She stares at Andre, and she tries to establish the danger. Carefully, she turns and faces the stranger in her son's room. With her body, she tries to shield her son from Shane's sight or any potential harm. The card with seven days is self-explanatory. It will be foolish to wait for seven days to worry.

"I have few questions for you, and they concern the case." A trusting smile graces Shane's lips.

Pearly white teeth blind Michonne. Andre is the first one to be refractory to the detective introduction. As his mother does, the toddler senses the nefarious intentions hidden behind the warm smile.

Previously calmed by his mother soft and sweet words, the young child restarts to cry. Michonne wants to carry her son, but she refuses to do so while his father's blood covers her baby doll. The young woman wipes her hand until heavy traces of blood transfer on the stained nighty.

To console her son, Michonne chooses to ignore Shane. She crouches again to be at eye level with her crying angel, and she kisses his button nose. She extends the only part of her body, which Mike's blood no longer covers. Andre small fingers latch on his mother's hand. He places his palm in the centre of hers. Michonne's place another kiss on the crown of her son's head.

"Better now, peanut." She does a tremendous job at hiding her personal anguish.

She senses the detective eyes on her. She tries to dampen her fury. After the last months, Michonne has a complex relationship with the police. They appear eager to accuse her of everything and unable to be of any help. Now, one intrudes her privacy.

She doesn't want to have a pair of eyes, which follows her while she interacts with her son. She knows to ignore him won't change a thing to the situation, and so she takes a deep breath. Michonne raises and straightens her posture. She keeps her son's hand in hers, and so he doesn't panic.

"I'm not talking without my lawyer." The neutrality of her voice is a way to temper her emotions.

As for now, the young woman is angry at the entire world. However, she knows how her emotions may be her downfall. She never practised because her domestic life fulfilled, but she is still a barrister. With one judgmental glance, she sizes Shane, and she can handle him. She stares back at the man, and she knows nothing will result from this interaction.

"That will make you a suspect when your cooperation will bring justice to your family." He tries the subtle police work, and his tone is as warm as he can make it be.

Michonne rolls her eyes, and she wonders when the day will end. How long does she have to deal with the bullshit, which life throws at her feet?

"A suspect which I am already, or is there other reasons for your presence in my son's room, detective." Offended by his attack on her intelligence, Michonne counters with a patronizing tone.

"Here ma'am there is no need to be so defensive. I had a few sets of questions because it was quite a show you pull out there with my partner." He tries again, but he sees that she isn't buying into his act.

"And you're seeking retaliation." She continues to antagonize him, but with the growing exhaustion, her tone now matches her anger.

"No just few answers, it was a strong accusation." Shane offers when he assumes she is opening to him.

"I was in shock whatever accusation I made can't be considered valid. I don't have to teach you your job." With each passing second, Michonne becomes more abrasive.

Can he just leave her son's room? Can she have the day to mourn her husband? Can these officers leave her home? Her mind is faltering, and her body wants to fall apart. Michonne wants to console her son, and later she wants to wallow in her misery. Although, it will not be possible, her home is now a crime scene. Now, she flirts with insanity, and she doesn't need more to inflict to Shane the same harm she did to his partner. With every second, her control fleets

"How convenient? You and detective Grimes appeared to be intimate. " The tone of his voices adds the vulgarity, which he chooses to omit with his statement.

Michonne glares at the detective. She has reached another breaking point, and she tries to come closer to Shane. However, she stops when she notices the small pull on her arm. The young woman takes a deep breath, and she chooses to focus on her son. Although, she doesn't intend to bite her tongue. What she can do with her fists, her mouth shall deliver.

"You must have a deranged notion of intimacy, detective. I attacked him, and he physically subdued me. Your personal fantasies aren't truths. I dare to hope the rest of the room possesses an ounce of sanity." She answers to his small denigrating words with well-articulated rudeness.

Michonne doesn't intend to stop at a little verbal slap. She is boiling fury, and she needs an outlet. Accidently, Shane Walsh walked in the centre of a hurricane. The young woman draws a deep breath, and she will need as much as she needs to deliver her angry tirade.

"You're interrogating a victim or a suspect alone, in the privacy of her childhood room. Yet, the questions don't concern the dead body in the next room, but your partner, who I met once prior to today. Legally, it doesn't look good for you. My past with your police department is awful enough. My husband death is to blame for the lack of action of your police department." She continues her tirade. and with each word, she's more heated.

"I have the right to point fingers, and the next time it may land on you. If you have questions for me, I will answer them in presence of my lawyer and when I'm forced to do so. Feel free to arrest me when you have substantial proof. Until then don't give me a reason to sue you and ruin whatever unsatisfactory life, which you leads, detective." She finishes.

"Please, hand your dress. It is an ongoing part of this investigation. Perhaps, your lawyer will able to have it return to you." After the verbal humiliation inflicted on his ego, Shane resorts to perverse pettiness.

He tries to humiliate her, and he forces her to disrobe for him. Michonne will not allow Shane to bully her, and so she walks up to him. Her confident brown eyes stare into his mocking eyes, and she takes off her baby doll. She doesn't recover her exposed flesh. When he leers at her bra-covered breast, she doesn't shy away.

"Is it cooperative enough? Other bloodstained clothes will be needed?" Venomously, she spits her words, and she throws the baby doll to his face.

…

…

….

"What is going on here?" his voice trembles due to anger.

Rick stares at a half-naked Michonne. On her tongue, Shane's fate hangs. Despite his resolution to control himself better, Rick may not control his jealousy or his needs for retaliation if Shane did something out of line to Michonne. He draws a deep breath while he waits for Michonne's answer. Whatever Shane has to say will hold no weight compare to Michonne's words.

"The detective is apparently doing his job. Although, he requested that I disrobe without an introduction of his rank and name, nor did he show me his badge. It can't be protocol." She answers

"My apology ma'am." Politely, Rick's answer.

He turns to face his partner, and successfully, he conceals his frustration. The fresh air calmed his temper, and he has a clear ability to focus. Right now, his only access to Michonne is his officer friendly persona. He has to temper with this entire case. It ties to his business. If any brilliant detective takes the case, the fall of his empire will be unavoidable.

"And his?" Michonne demands

"Detective Walsh?" Rick walks toward the pair.

With his suit's jacket, he covers Michonne's half-naked body. The young detective fights to control his temper, and the crowd of officers outside help him focus. A wrong move will lead to the end of his crime empire. Around Michonne, he has a tendency to forget that most of his life is a well-crafted lie.

"I will handle this before she sues the department for sexual harassment. Just calm down." Rick whispers in Shane's ear.

"Shane?" Rick insists, and he does so patiently.

Now, he can pretend. Officer friendly needs to work a way out of the mess, which Mike's death caused. It is the only way, which Rick has to watch over everything. When he surprised Shane while he corners Michonne, it is the perfect wake up call. The mobster needs to look at the bigger picture. What he sees announces a perilous future for him.

"Ma'am, there will not be a problem of conformity next time." Shane threatens her.

Rick doesn't appreciate the tone of his partner use and another person to watch out.

..

…

….

"I have a son too, and he used to be small." Rick offers as an explanation when he no longer can take her suspicious look.

He lifts Andre from the spot on the bed, and he places him on his hip. It works, and the child stops crying. He focuses on Rick's shirt. Chubby fingers try to pull out every button.

Michonne resists the impulse to snatch her son from Rick's arm, but the small creature finds his comfort in Rick's arm. Andre tries to crawl from Rick's hip to his neck. The toddler has a target in mind, and he tries to touch Rick's beard. For a second, the detective ignores Michonne to help her son. He leans and allows the child to pull on his hair and beard.

"Do you want to talk about at this or it's a later thang?" Nonchalantly, Rick questions her.

With Andre still hanging between his arm and neck, Rick closes the distance, which separates him from Michonne. The young woman takes a step back. Now, she can't stand his proximity. After this morning, she wants a moment away from him.

Her mind rushes to the words on the card. Next Thursday is in seven days, but she knows he is not complicit in Mike's death. She stares at her son, who Rick handles with care. Where does their arrangement stand?

"There are many ways to worsen your situation, princess." Rick drawls, and he continues to allow Andre to pull his curls.

The innocence of the picture, which he offers with a child in his arm conflicts Michonne. With his statement, he reminds her of his true nature. Michonne has to dissociate before she can react accordingly.

"Are you threatening me?" Frustrated, she questions him.

Right now, she is it in the mental state to recognize the subtlety of his tone. Usually, she distinguishes an order from a plea just from the intonation, which he gives his words.

Now, the seducing velvet of his voice disguises a soft plea as a subtle warning. Although, Michonne misses the small detail. The young woman places her hands on his chest to keep him at a safe distance. In a room filled with curious eyes, she needs to be careful.

"No one likes the answer to a dumb question." Insulted by her insinuation, Rick rudely answers.

For months, he has threatened her openly. Why will he disguise it now? He rearranges Andre, which is half wrapped around his arm. With an unexpected softness, Rick's eyes stop on Michonne's visage. The detective tries to soothe her anxiety with a slow caress, and his thumb grazes her cheek.

His forefinger draws the sinuous path from her cheek to her clavicle. Michonne swats his finger away, but it's a reluctant gesture. She is less tense, and her mind collides with a wave of guilt.

"Stay away from me and my son. You did this and now him..." She tries to snatch Andre from Rick while she speaks.

Careful, she tries not to disrupt her son's fragile balance. Consequently, she has to handle Rick's body with extreme care. Another wave of guilt submerges her mind. Her husband is dead, and she almost caresses his potential murderer. Her movements while she tries to pry her son from him become frantic.

"Look at me…" After watching her panic for too long, Rick orders.

Michonne ignores him, and she almost has Andre in her arms. Rick steps back to avoid her hand. He lifts her chin, and so he forces her to face him. She stares into steel blue filled with concern. Concern for her, which stops her for a second.

However, Rick has more to share. She knows the truth, and she can try to ignore it. It will make the seven days message less threatening. Is it pretentious of her to have the belief that Rick will never harm her? She knows he is a being of violence, but she has a whispering arrogant voice, which says that he wouldn't harm me.

Her husband hurt her, but a man, who she fucks in exchange for protection, wouldn't. In truth, she has ceased to trust her mind. If it can forge such a belief, something must be wrong with her.

Michonne stares at Rick, and she loses herself in the calm storm, which besieges his eyes. The sincerity, which floods the oceanic irises, confirms her worst nightmare. He didn't kill Mike, and she has more on her plate. Once again, she is in deep trouble. What do seven days mean now? It is no longer the next Thursday.

"Princess… Michonne" He tries to drag her out the intricate enclave, which her mind has become.

Drawing her name does the trick, and she stares at him. He senses her desperation, but she concluded the right thing. Perhaps, he will exploit her weakness. He wants the bubble, which their interludes offered. He cherishes the microcosm of heaven, which being in her arms represents. Rick wants Michonne, and he has very few means to have her. The detective places Andre back in his mother's arms. Michonne hugs the little boy, with a crushing strength.

Reality regains its power on Michonne's life. When compared to what may come, Mike's death may be a trivial event. They sent her a wrapped body, and it says enough on who is after her.

"You can keep the jacket or you know where to find me..."The detective doesn't continue his statement.

He knows he has her attention. From his pocket, Rick pulls out a small piece of paper, which he picked in her living room. Michonne recognized the note. Rick doesn't wait for Michonne's answer, and he leaves her behind. It is a bold move, but it is also a bluff.

When he thought she was dead, He almost had a heart attack. He will allow no harm to her, and the whispering voice in her mind is right.

Unfortunately, Michonne doesn't attach emotions to her relationship with Rick. She doesn't want to add sentimentalism to the mixture. She blocks his and her sentiments from her mental equations.

Michonne spends hour rethinking a decision, which she made a month ago. How many choices does she have? Perhaps, the hard part is not to reenter the arrangement. It is the extra bit, and all the amendment, which she has to do.

A month ago, it was easier because she pictured herself hating every second in his arms. Now, she is wiser. There is more than carnality to their interaction, but admitting it will be blasphemy.

* * *

 **Saturday midnight.**

:

:

Wild dreadlocks escape from her dishevelled bun. Heavy dark circles dress her under eyes. Paleness blemishes Michonne's gorgeous skin. Like stigma, she wears the day's tumult on her face. Her luminous beauty doesn't hide the exhaustion. Worst, it emphasizes the fatigue and her mental state. Never has Rick seen her so close to mortality. The redness of her sclera reveals too much about the hours, which she spent crying. However, her posture doesn't lose its superb grace, and she is nothing short of dignified.

Michonne materializes out of his mind's shallow crevices. Rick draws a bit of the warm air, which saturates the atmosphere around him. The young man wipes the sweat from his forehead. Uncertain, he stares at the woman, who stands at the entrance of his mansion's office. His eyes fall on the hard piece of paper, which he holds. The seven days warning turns into big letters, which mocks his despondency. She hasn't brought the jacket. He no longer counts the rejection.

Perhaps, he hoped for more. Rick twists the paper between his thumb and forefinger. The edges are sharp and dent the tip of his finger. The soft pain is a sort of shallow comfort and a preparation for more ravaging sorrow.

Michonne has arrived, and she should carry with her the instrument of his misery. Rick can read her thoughts, and there are rumbling screams. A small smirk sits on his lips, and he isn't the only one disturbed.

Her thoughts, which Rick wants her to voice, are intricate. Wording them will be a small humiliation offered in tribute to the pain, which she has started to create. Rick wants to crash against the violence of her thoughts.

Perhaps, it is rewarding to watch a proper and sanctimonious woman crumble. It will be a comforting balm placed upon his mistreated ego. A minute when she is close to his reach, and far from the divine aspect, which separates him from her.

It is cruel and manipulative, but it is a predominant part of him. The detective will rather have a shell than to have nothing. Rick leans back into his chair and peers above his case file. Whatever she wants, he is eager to offer. The little warmth, which he can draw out of her, he won't hesitate to steer.

"Did you miss a spot, princess? You've nastier thangs to say to me." His tone emphasizes the mockery contained in each word.

Michonne peruses the wounds, which her nails inflicted on his face. The redness and the open cut shine, and they contrast with his angelic features. There is the expression of satisfaction painted across her face. A perverse satisfaction, which she refuses to be shamed for feeling. It is a punishment, which he pays for the wrong crime, but he deserves it.

Rick cocks an eyebrow. When she shows malice, she is breathtaking to him. Somehow, those are fissures in her mind where he can enter. If he lowers Michonne to his level, he may reach her. She wouldn't be Michonne. Rick appreciates the moments when her dark tendencies rise, but the rarity of the occurrence is the reason behind the appreciation.

….

….

….

The young man passes his hands over his face and feels the small cuts. She dug deep into his flesh. Rick draws his chaise closer to his desk. The noise of metal legs, which graze on granite, startles Michonne.

The fragile smile, which sits on her lips, disappears. The young woman focuses on him, and his reflection fills the blemished brown of her irises. Michonne's throat dries, and her mind draws blank for an instant. What is she here?

She is immobile for too long. Impatiently, Rick waits for her to leave the doorframe. Her slender frame crowds his visual field. Michonne's vivid emotional display makes the young detective an unwilling witness of her turmoil. Rick detests standing as a spectator during her moral conflict. How long should a dead man receive a period of grace? Rick swears to piss on Mike's grave as soon as the concrete is dry.

Rick clears his throat to emphasize the loudness of the silence between them. His stare is suggestive and demanding. If she has nothing to say, she is free to leave. The detective appreciates a different type of torture.

He doesn't submit himself to the mental one. For Rick, Michonne's pitiable auto-flagellation over a man as worthless as her husband is inappropriate. Staring at her while she is so distant is masochism. Her selective mutism frustrates him.

When he glances at her, he knows words won't carry the meaning, which he wants them to have. Rick lifts his leg and rests them on his desk. He closes his eyes and waits for the heaviness to crush his heart. He waits for the feeling, which slowly becomes a constant. His heart constricts, and the waits for her words is painful. Elbow propping his head, he silently observes her.

There is a haunting emotion in his eyes, a growing melancholy. A new resentment, which follows every sort of unrequited infatuation. Pandering to her needs has become tiresome. Although, he can't stop doing so. He has long ceased to control the game. By Thursday number two, he was at her mercy. Michonne is a poor game's master, but she controls it.

Carrying about Michonne exhaust him. Rick lacks practice with such activities. He fucks and moves on. Now, he is stuck in a circle when he has to trade his king ego for a beggar dignity. For a second, he wants a break and a return to normalcy. Why did he step into this arrangement? Pretty doe eyes and blinding smile, her warmth lured him.

Truly, he doesn't remember why he accepted. Perhaps, greed and overconfidence dictated his choice. Although, the same reasons keep him glue to her.

Pretty women walk the street of Atlanta every morning. How hard can it be to forget Michonne and move on to the next willing body? It is as hard as stopping to stare at her with poorly hidden desire and growing adoration. He walks down a dangerous path, but a reckless soul seeks danger.

"We're going to play this staring game how long? You've thang to say?"

…

…

…

Michonne has reached the end of a line. The loud thoughts are louder and deafening. Many questions, which find no satisfactory answers. The questions, which she has answered don't correlate with her situation. Does she have things to say? No, she has nothing to say. Although, she has sentiment to express.

There is an admission, and it is hard to overlook it. For survival purposes, she needs Rick Grimes. In more way that she wants to admit it but the need is present. The spiral is endless, and she steadily drowns. Renewing the arrangement is necessary, but her reaction to that knowledge is a problem. It no longer appals Michonne.

The young woman ignores the existence of intricate sentiments. When they resurface, she uses reason and moral to immerse them. Michonne hesitates a second, and her foot is stuck between the entrance and exit of Rick's office. Is it wise? In her mental state, nothing is wise. Everything is an attempt to reach out to a form of serenity.

Overwhelming emotions numb her reasoning, and her decisions are unsafe. A vacuum of intricate sentiments swallows each reasonable thought, which she forms. Perhaps, there is no need to think, but she needs to subdue her emotions. Hours spent revisiting a tragic history, Michonne's mind begs for an interlude and a single moment of abandon.

Preservation has brought Michonne so far, and instinct has kept her breathing. For her sanity, they overpower her reason. Thinking is painful, as it inflicts a constant harm to her cracked soul. She leaves too many why unanswered. There are the futile justifications, which Michonne tries to attach to Mike's actions.

Preservation seeks Rick, and instinct is too primal with its need. She doesn't know what she needs in this hard moment, but she knows he can appease her. Consequently, she walks to his desk. Hesitation causes the faltering of her steps. A short path and she is free to run away. However, she aches for something, a sort of salvation.

Slowly, she sits in the corner of his desk. Her eyes latch on his fiery blue one. A dancing flame inhabits the blue abyss, and it entrances Michonne. She can exchange the numbness, which she feels with his warmth. The young woman rubs her face between her open palms, and she tries to centre her mind.

She stares at Rick and wants him to say something. Michonne needs him to break the ice. However, she knows silence will be his input into this conversation. Finger straightened due to the tension, which runs in her body, Michonne searches down her pocket. She pulls out the wedding ring, which she hasn't worn the last days. She stares at the luminous object.

"I don't understand..." Her voice dies and a steady stream of tears digs a sinuous path on her cheeks.

Quick hands start to clean the endless tears, but it is a failure. Rapidly, tears drench her beautiful skin. For a second, Rick's sentimentalism reaches the surface, and he looks away from a crying Michonne. He offers her a semblance of privacy because he doesn't want to comfort her when her tears mourn another man.

"I don't understand..." She pursues and stares at the man, which faces her with an unreadable expression.

There is a pregnant pause. A moment when they choose their stand on the matter. What does she want to hear? The truth or a beautifully crafted lie. Rick spent a decade pretending, and pretence cannot sully his relationship with Michonne. With a heavy heart, he gives away another chance to lower Michonne at his level.

"He fucked you over." His words cut through the heavy atmosphere between them.

Rick drags his chair closer to the spot, where Michonne sits. He places his hand on her covered thighs.

"Ain't a thang hard to understand, princess." Ennui transcends his voice.

It is a brutal sincerity, but Rick Grimes is the least diplomatic being. He picks her ring and analyzes the small white gold band. It is refined just as she is. Mike did once make a correct choice. The ring is a jewel, which Rick will pick for Michonne. Elegant and sophisticated

"I..." She hesitates and loses her words in the process.

What follows a violent expression of truth is usually silence. Accordingly, Michonne swallows every word, which she wished to speak. Her thoughts quiet down. The young woman stares at the detective, and another statement dies in her lips. He is never going to be one for emotions. Why did she come? How ridiculous, what is she after? Although, she stays glued to her spot on his desk. Her fingers wrap themselves around the edges of the table. She needs to resist the building feeling in her.

Silently, she observes him from the corner of his eyes. Michonne calculates her next move. Who is she around this man? Who deserves to carry the guilt from the misery, which chooses to besiege her life? Mike is dead, and she has no one left to blame. In the middle of the dense chaos, which her life has become, she is out of place. Her poised nature clashes with the argumentative violence around her. Although for reasons, which are her own, she latches to the devil arm.

"You do understand!" With a soft velvety voice, which brushes every syllable, he delivers his accusation.

She loved Mike with everything, and so she can't resonate. With a dimmed dullness and a dying interest, she tries to stand from Rick's desk. What she needs from him isn't worth suffering an aggression. It was a mistake, which she is already regretting. However, Rick will not allow her an escape. He steadies her with a firm grip, and he drags her closer to him.

"You've it all figure out, but you don't speak ill of the dead." He insists and she absently shakes her head to fight his accusation.

Between his spread legs, Michonne stands. Carefully, he pushes her back to the spot on his office's desk. The world starts to spin, and Michonne wants it to slow down. With his forefinger, Rick continues to help her body sink lower, and the starts to rise from his chair. Now, he has reversed their position. He stands between her parted legs, and his hand rest on the shivering skin of her knee. He rubs his hands up and down. His fingers teased the hem of her dress.

"Your husband was a son of one of kind bitch. He screwed many people over, but with you, he went overboard." His voice is a mere whisper when he leans closer to her.

His fingers hook on the silky material of her dress. Rick pushes the material further away from her smooth ties. The young man adores peeling away every layer of material until he reveals Michonne's celestial nudity. Disrobing her is a transcending experience. He slows down to lick his lips and moisturize his dry throat.

"You ain't crying over another man on my shoulder. You want a good cry, find a girlfriend, but it isn't what you want tonight."

Possessively, the young man presses his groin to her burning core. Michonne's hand recovers his hand, and she grounds herself at the moment. His proximity intoxicates her, and the young woman has to deal with the consequence of her bad decision. Now all she wants is he.

"Princess, tell me what you want..." Rick pants between words, and he breathes against her skin.

Michonne has no escape nor is she willing to find one. She complies with his demand. With lips pressed on his earlobe, the words pour out of the recess of her mind. His thumbs grazed her cheeks. Michonne tries to overlook the effect of his touch, and the young woman wants to focus on the feeling of abandon alone. Anxiously, she mutes the echoes of complex sentiments. Not him, she does not want the man but purely his touch.

Rick sinks on his knee and parts her legs to allow him free motion. He starts to kiss her inner thighs and strokes her engorged clitoris. He licks the feminine juice, which glistens her thighs. The sweetness and the umami-rich taste coat his tongue. His tongue dart to embrace her burning flesh. He wraps both hands around her thighs and maintains her down. His tongue worships her smooth skin, which the devotion of a dedicated believer delivering a fervent prayer.

Rick drags bites his way to her quivering clitoris, and his warmth mouth covers it. He starts sucking with extreme dedication. Between tongue strokes, his teeth tease the sensitive bundle of nerves. Helplessly, Michonne moans and tries to keep his face between her legs. Rick kisses a shallow path around her mound, and his tongue sinks into her pulsing cores. Michonne curses loudly, and Rick's hand recovers her lips. She sucks his finger, which her juice coats into her mouth.

When he starts to interchange between his thick fingers and his tongue, Michonne cries Rick's name. He drinks from her with soft lips pressed against her labia and digs deeper into her core. He sucks and licks until the sweet taste of her is engraved on his palate. Michonne sense her orgasm, and trembling legs close around Rick's face.

He forces her legs opens, and he continues to feast on her trembling pussy. Every drop of her umami nectar savoured like the forbidden nectar, which quenches Jupiter's thirst. Michonne's cries are raw pleas. Can he allow her the petite mort, which her body requires? After few pleas laced with his name coated in adoration, Rick grants her wish. Deep strokes of tongue in her slit and she comes all over his tongue.

….

….

….

…..

Michonne grabs him by the collar, and she brings her lips to her. She kisses Rick with all the passion, which she can muster. Her tongue parts his lips and invades his mouth like a brutal crusader. Michonne's slender fingers slide in his curly mane. Curls wrap around exploring finger, and she deepens their kiss. Her fragile lungs hurl for air, but she refuses to relinquish the erratic sentiment caused by the entranced tango of their tongue.

Michonne steals her air from Rick's lips. The detective traps her lower lips between his teeth. Their eyes lock onto to each other. Brown has morphed into golden hue due to the flame Rick' touch lit inside them. Michonne can't stand the eye contact as it carries a deeper meaning. The young woman closes her eyes, and she hears the sound of him opening his pants' zipper. With anticipation, she bites his plump upper lip.

"I'm going to be rough, princess." He does not have to say what she already knows.

Rick holds onto her waist with an iron grip, and his fingers dig in her hips. Although, the statement builds the anticipation. It is a selfish need, which the detective has, and he deals with the resentment regarding their arrangement. He doesn't have the chance to close his eyes when the emotions are intense. Consequently, the young fucks his frustration away.

The carnal union is rough. Rick copes with the misery of the growing addiction to her. It is a pitiable need for reassurance, and he reaffirms his possessiveness. An unsubtle way to ask her who she belongs to. Michonne caresses his nape to reassure him and a confirmation that she belongs to him for now.

Rick lifts her, and her legs wrap themselves around his waist. She moans when his tongue enters her mouth. Her hands start to mess up his curls. His nose lingers on her neck. His tongue samples the taste of her goose bumped skin while he licks the sweet pulsating flesh.

The young man places his penis at the entrance of her wet quivering core. The penetration is rough and followed by a disarticulated stroke. There is a lot of emotional exigence in his grip. Bruising, His fingers dig into her flesh, and he buries his manhood deep inside her core.

The sounds of their colliding pelvis disturb the silence. Each of his strokes is deep and fueled by reckless abandon. His roughness increase with each of her satisfied cries. Although, it does not matter how rough Rick is. Pleasure overlaps the sweet torture. Her body cannot help but burst like a billion years star. With each passing second, his strokes are more rhythmic and deeper. He drags her back to him, and his hand circles her neck. Her body melts into his. With each stroke, he squeezes her neck. She begs him for more pressure, and she allows the ecstatic wave to crush her body.

"Rick…Please." She begs and her hands pull on his shirt.

Michonne undoes his button and snakes her finger inside. Her hands claw on his chest when his strokes are impossibly deeper. She encouragingly looks back into his eyes, and she gives him what he wants. Unleashed and unpolished, his Michonne, who is a burning flame. He pulls down the rest of her dress, and his mouth covers her harden nipple. He continues to fuck her standing until his knee buckles. She gasps when he modifies their position and lowers her down. He makes her face away from him.

…..

….

….

"Bend, princess" A slap on her ass punctuates his order.

Michonne winces but she appreciates the roughness of his touch. He presses her body deeper against his office's desk. The young woman doesn't care about the little object pocking her flesh. He rests his hand on her bare back, and the cold metal of his ring frosts her skin. Rick kisses the centre of her lower back, and his tongue runs along her spine. He knows how to charm her and lead her down a depraved path. His hot breaths cool her aflame and feverish skin. When he feels her body relax, he kisses her neck and slaps her ass.

Rick presses his nose against her skin. He breathes her corrupted scent. The mixture of sexual pheromones, which embalm her shivering skin, intoxicates him further. There is more abandon with each thrust. The strength makes Michonne's knee buckle, but Rick holds her firmly.

He feasts on her sweet scent, to which a proof she belongs to him. Her fragrance burns his lungs. His scent now lingers on her flesh like an embalming incense, and yet he is not satiated. His fingers slide down her back. His fingertips graze her bottom. He swats both cheeks and squeezes.

Rick smirks feeling proud of his win when Michonne cries his name. The caresses are assertive, and her moans are louder. Rick' fingers slide in her hair, and he undoes her loose bun. Free locks slip through his fingers, and he keeps a fist full of dark tendrils. He pulls her head back up with a soft tug, and he bends her head until she can almost face him.

"Please give it to me…" Michonne pleads for more and runs after the abandon, which follows their sexual encounter.

Their mating bodies seek a sweet scorching pain, and a little extra violent caress to push them down the edge. Rick emphasizes his stroke, and he answers her cry for more. He slams into her vagina, with the desperation of a man latching on his fleeting happiness. It is almost visceral and barbaric, yet the caresses of his finger are softer than feathers.

Once again, He tugs on her hair when she stops looking at his manhood penetrating her vagina. He wants her to see what only he can do to her body. She meets every of his thrust. His teeth graze her screaming pulse and bite into the sweet tender flesh of her neck. The branding bite covers her entire neck. He licks his jaws print, and Michonne moans. Few more stroke and she divides down, and the crushing wave of her climax swallows her. She melts in his arm, and Rick continues to thrust until his body gives into its own pleasure.

"You're moving where I can keep an eye on you and reach you …" Rick is the first to speak when they recover.

"That isn't the arrangement…" it is a silly rebuttal, but she doesn't know how to react.

A look at her actual position will confirm their arrangement no longer stands. Two hours have passed since they had sex, and she hasn't run out of the room. It is not the arrangement to have her hair spread over his chest or basking in the warmth of his body. Although, she needs comfort tonight. Her actions are excusable.

"When you made the rule for this arrangement, did you consider this? I signed for a good fuck, not the side complications." Rick's grabs the white card and places it on Michonne opens palm.

He knows what it means, but she only sees a deadline. Rick isn't sure about her, but he didn't intend to stand between the saviours and their target. If he doesn't find a way to fix this mess, he may as well prepare for a war. Rick has a vague idea where to start, but first, he needs to assure Michonne's safety. Which means being her shadow, and almost constantly share her space. How does he do that with every eye on him and mostly Shane's one? Consequently, they have to amend the arrangement.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the review**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

* * *

 **Chapter V: Saturday's sanity**

* * *

 **Thursday 4** **approximately 11 p.m.**

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"Rick?" His shouting mother wakes him.

It isn't the first time when Lori's cries awake Carl. Usually, there are ecstatic moans and raw cries for more, which disturbs his nights. Sometimes, it is a succession of Shane screamed in the night. Disoriented, the teenager tries to process what is happening around him. Rapidly, He reaches for his bedside cupboard and tries to pull his earphone out. The young boy supposes it will be one of those nights when his mother's lovemaking will disturb his sleep.

Half asleep, Carl can't find his precious earbud. The shouts are louder, and the words are clearer to his mind. Shane isn't the reason behind her shouts, and Lori doesn't do so while she surfs a wave of incommensurable pleasures. Around every floor of her home, Lori's voice carries fury and frustration. Carl tries to take a deep breath, but in the small space of his room, he suffocates. Tightly, he wraps his blanket around him like a protective shield. The night will be awful, and he senses it.

Defeated, he shuts his eyes and prays for a quick ending to his nightmare. The last thing, which he wants to hear, is an argument between his parents. If actually, it is an argument. The sounds, which he hears, only convey Lori's indignation. Can he just have a silent night? Since he is ten, his nights are successions of traumatic events and inappropriate sounds. The teenager tries to keep his eyes tightly sealed, but he fails to do so.

In the dark, the boy continues to look for his earphones. The little object of necessity for his salvation is unfindable. Last night, he must have misplaced them after he threw them in frustration. Carl spent three hours listening to anything, and so he could block his mother's guttural moans and Shane's foul language.

After an unfruitful search, Carl abandons, and he braces himself for the worst. Although, nothing can be worse than hearing his mother while she has sex with a man, who isn't his father. Most of the nights, the boy survives the experience, and only streams of dry tears prove how horrid the experience was.

With a pillow, he recovers his ears, and he tries to keep the sound out. His curiosity runs free. He can't help but questions the why behind the argument. Perhaps, his father discovered the truth. Will it mean that he discovered everything, and which includes his own omission? Carl regrets the path, which his thoughts want to follow. Will he have to justify why he never said anything? Will he have to mention how his mother forces him to lie?

Angry tears fill Carl's eyes, and he stares at the ceiling while he waits for his tears to dry. The teenager feels so powerless. His heart constricts, and he tries to take deeper breaths. As a background to his anguish, there are his mother angry shouts. If his father found out the truth, she wouldn't be angry, but he knows his mother better.

When he found out the truth, she was furious. Yet, Lori did nothing to prevent Carl's discovery. Her recklessness could only result in her son discovering the truth. Constantly, Shane was in and out of her room. It was so evident. A clever ten years old boy would inevitably correlate the situation to matters, which he shouldn't picture.

...

…

….

In regards to the situation, Carl doesn't know how to feel. Everyone knows the truth about his mother and his Uncle Shane. Lori doesn't hide it from anyone but her husband, which is why she forces her to keep her secret. The woman uses a powerful incentive to silence her son, Rick's absence.

The shouts are louder, and the pillow doesn't dampen any sound. The teenager puts his forefingers in his ears, and he tries to fill his ear's internal cavity.

"Come and grab your friend. We'll go to very distant lands…" At the top of his lungs, the boy sings the theme song of a cartoon, which he used to watch before the chaos.

He wishes to go in a very distant land or a simple thing like the words of the song to cover his mother's voice. It doesn't work, and his mother's tirade continues to reach his ears. Ultimately, there is a loud sound of a closing door, and suddenly, the sounds of shout dampen. Despite the almost silence, Carl fights to keep the tears at bay and wipes his running nose. Some tears successfully escape the barrage of his eyelids.

What is wrong with his parent? Why can they behave as his friends' parents? The teenager deals with an absentee father, who on weekend tries to overcompensate, which is why he is afraid to share anything about his mother infidelity. His mother's infidelity may be the thing, which takes his peaceful weekend away. Lori told him so when he found out about his affair at ten years old.

If he leaves me, he will abandon you too. You will never see him again. Lori's statement never disappears from her son's everyday thoughts. Carl doubts the veracity behind his mother's word, but he will never take the risk to lose his father. When she said those words, it was hard for a young child to doubt their veracity. Rick's absence allows Lori's lies to be believable.

Sometimes, Carl wonders the reason behind his father absence. If virtually every night, Shane can sneak inside their home, the police work can't be the reason. Perhaps, his mother and he are the problems. Consequently, revealing his mother's affair may be the ultimate detail to push his father away.

Based on the weekend, which he spends with his father, Carl knows that he isn't the problem. Accordingly, his mother must be the problem. She is one to him, and she has been one since he discovered a liaison she didn't bother to hide.

Although, she forces him to keep her secrets. Lori doesn't care for the guilt, which her son experiences every time that he faces his father. Every other day of the week, Carl deals with a neglectful mother. If she is present, Lori is neglectful. When she is with Shane or in a retreat, she is an absentee too.

Perhaps, his father has discovered the truth, and it will alleviate Carl's guilt. It allows the young boy to escape his home, and the peaceful weekends will become a constant. The shouts continue, but now, he can't discarnate what they say.

…

….

….

There are louder sounds, and he shuts his eyes. He keeps his eyes impossibly closed, and his eyelids hurt from the pressure he applies to maintain them closed. Is it bad that he roots for a chaotic event?

He grabs a fist full of his bed sheets, and the teenager prays for the end of the shouting match between his parents. Embarrassment and anger force the tears out of the boys. He is twelve, and he should be brave. Despite is the best attempt at bravery, tears spill out Carl's eyelids.

The shouts cease at once, and he hears his parents' door snaps open. Carl takes another futile breath. Heavy footsteps echo in the corridor, and the teenager wants to rush out to meet his father. Slowly, he walks to his door, and he slightly opens it to peer out the room.

A shirtless Rick crosses the corridor while on the phone, and he takes the staircase, which leads to the exit. Carl will love to have the luxury to leave after the chaos too as his father does. However, he has to stay and deal with the falls out. Lori leaves her room, and she follows Rick.

...

...

...

...

"Go to bed." When she spots her son, which stares at her display of erratic emotions, the furious woman shouts.

"If you didn't shout all night, I will be able to sleep." Grudgingly and frustrated, Carl counters his mother's statement.

The teenager opens his door wider. With the passing days, Carl respect for his mother has diminished. Surprised by his answer, Lori stares at his son. Tonight, it must be a full moon, and the Grimes men are on an evil mission to ruin her life. They are trying to render her insane. She glances at her son, and she watches him while he tries to stand straight.

"What did you say?" She questions Carl while she menacingly starts to approach him.

Carl doesn't back down, and he stands his ground. He is tired of his mother's antics, and he tries to preserve his sudden bravado. Lori stares at the tears, which continue to dry on his cheeks. It should soften her, but it annoys the woman.

When she started to live her hedonistic life, she steadily forgot how to be a decent mother. Putting food on the table and sometimes watching television with him is what she pictures as the actions of a good mother. In truth, she is as absent as Rick. Worst, she doesn't try to compensate with weekends. She disappears with her paramour and forgets about the life, which she left home.

"You heard me as loud as I hear you every night." Carl's voice trembles, but he refuses to be silent one more night.

"Shut up…" She shouts in his face and pulls him by the arm.

The boy refuses to wince, but his mother grip digs in his arm. Lori drags her son back to his room, and she refuses to deal with such fatuous shenanigans.

Rick destroyed her peaceful night, and she will not let his spawn do the same. She shoves Carl inside his dark room. The young woman places her hand on her son's shoulders. She forces him to look into her furious blue eyes. She doesn't care for the pain, which makes his eyes glisten with tears pooling in the corner, and so she adds to his heartbreak.

"Never say something like that around your father…" She takes a deep breath, and her voice softens as if she is about to comfort her crying son.

"See, a dispute with me, and he is ready to abandon you. Where is he? You want your father around, and then you will shut up, baby. " Lori finishes, and her voice always has the exact same softness, which it used to have when she sang lullabies to him.

Her thumbs wipe away hot tears from Carl's face. The teenager nods and returns to his bed. Lori closes the door, and her son hears her pass a call to Shane. Carl doesn't have the strength to hear every sound during their intercourse. Tonight, he will not survive it. An hour later when he hears boots stamping the corridor's parquet, he grabs his heavy jacket and sneaks out his room.

The teenager crosses the road and walks to the porch of the house, which faces his home. Since his earliest childhood, the place has never had an occupant. He sits on the dark porch. With his jacket, the boy protects his shivering flesh from the cold with his jacket.

Carl stares at the windows of his parents' room, and he will return to his bed when the lights go off in there. He pulls out his phone and sends a desperate text to his father.

"Dad, will I see you on Saturday for the baseball game?" He presses the letter to form is words hesitantly.

A minute later, he has his answer. For him, it is worthy to continue protecting his mother's dirty secret. A simple weekend with his father makes him feel better than he does the entire week.

"We don't break our father and son tradition. I will pick you up, and this time I have great places."

* * *

 **Saturday early morning approximately 2 a.m.**

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 **:**

A numb arm and hundreds of dreadlocks spilt over his chest render his sleep impossible. Her soft hair tickles and irritates his bare chest. With careful fingers, Rick tries to form a bun with her wild locks. He loves her hair free when they have sex, but when he tries to sleep, it is uncomfortable.

Rick is tempted to push her head back on a pillow, but he fears to break the moment. The smell of coconut oil and the accent of her vanilla scent anoint his skin and caress his senses. Michonne's left leg surrounds his waist, and her right leg and his legs intertwine in a weird embrace. Inevitably, the young man notices the coldness of her feet when her toes seek some heat between his calves.

Delicately, He continues to compile her dreadlock in his fist. When he picks one strand, another one falls out of his grip. It is a futile task, and he can't hold them in one hand.

Rick is afraid that if he grabs all her hair at once, Michonne will wake up. Consequently, he picks a single dreadlock each time. The young man will rather do a herculean task than to risk arousing Michonne.

If Michonne wakes up, reality will splinter his illusion of happiness. It will destroy a transient haven. Reality is everything carnal, and it is the arrangement. With Michonne asleep in his arms, Rick grazes a part of his fantasy.

For once, Michonne is his, and she is in his shielding arms. The moment is bittersweet because of how fragile it is. A mere flutter of Michonne's eyelids will obliterate it, and their reality will replace his retreat.

"I will do it." When her drowsy voice echoes in the silent room, Rick halts in the middle of his tedious task.

Rick's heart shatters. He wishes that he had the entire night before he must face the cruel reality. Helplessly, He holds her hair and stares at her slow movement. He waits for the fatidical moment when she escapes his hold.

Surprisingly, she moves closer to his body. Their bodies are practically a single item, and the action of moving closer is a miracle. Now, Michonne's body overlays on half of Rick's one. The young woman's hand recovers his hand. Dexterously, she grabs the dreadlocks, which he holds. In a second, she arranges a neat bun.

Now, he waits for Michonne to put a space between them. The young woman is somnolent, and she doesn't have her conscious inhibition. Now, she seeks comfort, but the other side of the bed is cold bedsheets. Rick's body is a protective human warmth. Instinctively, she chooses the comfort. Michonne rubs her hand on Rick's chest, and she tries to warm the spot for her head.

With mixed feelings, the young man looks at Michonne, who lies her head on his chest. He assumes she is unaware of whose arms she uses as a pillow. Reality refuses to relinquish its hold on Rick's mind. Continually, it warns Rick of where he and Michonne stand. It is a gruesome arrangement.

Tonight, he experiences something, which he can't have in the long term. With no care for the world, Michonne wraps herself around Rick's body. When the morning comes, she will remember who he is.

"Now, stop moving Rick." With Michonne's somnolent voice, some words are inaudible.

However, he hears his name as loud as he would hear a thunder, which crosses a silent blue sky. It is a balm to his bruised heart. For a second, Rick reverentially looks at her.

Perhaps, she is too sleepy to care in whose arms she finds her comfort. The reason, why he is lucky to hold her, doesn't matter. Her random sleepy chatter offers him an isolated moment of gratification.

Already, Rick accepted his fate, and he knows he has to live off crumbs of affection, which Michonne inadvertently offers. He kisses the crown of her head, and she returns his genteel gesture with a caress on his arm.

"Sorry." He apologizes for moving.

…

…

…

…

A few hours later, he continues to be unable to sleep. Michonne's body besieges the left half of his body. Rick has to survive the tingle and the numbness. Second are too slow and minutes are immobile, and the pain in his muscle renders this night endless. However, he will never complain. He prefers the physical discomfort to the excruciating mental pain, which he endured every Thursday when her scent embalming the room was his solitude companion.

The young man can't sleep, but he discovers a better activity. Rick stares at a sleeping Michonne. She is so unguarded and graceful. He knows she is beautiful. Although, to face her sleeping visage is a different experience. It is entrancing to watch her, and her peaceful expression mesmerizes him. When her visage is unblemished due to the stoic mask of sleep, it is easier to notice the detail, which makes her a work of art. From the golden hue underlying her dark skin to the fair layer of pink that coats her plump lips, everything is so detailed and perfect.

Exasperated by his thoughts, Rick shakes his head. When did the shift in his sentiments happen? He must have lost his mind in the process of this arrangement and received the eloquence to describe her beauty as a gift.

Michonne no longer equates sex in his mind, and now Michonne is the equivalent of beauty to him. It frustrates him how much he sounds like a desperate lover. However, he can't silence his thoughts, and they are repetitions of odes to Michonne's beauty.

Until Morpheus graces the young man of his presence, Rick's thoughts are ridiculous plans to seduce a woman, who has infiltrated his bloodstream. She is an embedded addiction. The young man never basks enough in her warmth. He never touches her enough. He never possesses her enough. It will never be enough to have sex with Michonne until she looks at him in the eyes while he owns her body.

It is unavoidable, and the morning will be awkward. The night was uncomfortable, but every first thing is maladroit. Michonne wavered between a need for proximity and a guarding distance. Subconsciously, Rick's warmth drew her body. When she woke up and noticed whom she cuddled, she tried to stay away from Rick's embrace. The young woman tried to put a great distance between them. Although, she ultimately returned to Rick's arms.

* * *

 **Saturday approximately 7 a.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

Rick stares at a sleeping Michonne or rather pretending to sleep Michonne. He knows she pretends because of how far Her body lies from his. In a night, the young man discovered Michonne cuddles, and she likes the crushing type of cuddle, which suffocates the bed companion.

During the night, she overtook his body and turned him into a pillow. When she is aware of her actions, she creates a safe distance between their bodies. Now, with his forefinger, he will able to throw her out of his bed. Half of the young woman's body hovers above the parquet.

With a swift motion, Rick's arm surrounds her waist, and he drags her body closer to his. Michonne wants to open her eyes and put an end to what Rick intends to start. However, she is not ready to face him.

The young woman can't answer the questions, which her mind starts to conjure. The rational side of her awakes to condemn her reckless behaviours. Michonne wants to consider last night events as an isolated incident.

Unfortunately, it isn't how she functions. Michonne is an over-thinker, and she appreciates order and rules. Accordingly, she starts to analyze every touch and every instant, which led her to spend an entire night with Rick Grimes. She broke many of her rules, and now, she has to face the consequences.

...

...

...

Michonne's body collides with his lean muscles. She puts her hand between their joined bodies, but her touch becomes a soft caress. Her warm fingers press on his cool flesh and wrap themselves around his flex bicep.

Michonne nuzzles his skin. Her nose grazes his neck. A mixture of musk, galangal, and sexual scent invades her nose and saturates the air around her. She breathes in his masculine scent until sensual intoxication.

Ultimately, Michonne will open her eyes. As for now, the young woman wants to prolong the bliss of denial. Under the weight of another body, Michonne's body sinks deeper into the soft mattress. In a poor attempt to maintain her balance, her fingers slide in Rick's unruly curls. She doesn't want to sink deeper.

Rick eliminates her options, and she has to choose between two. First, she continues to ignore the world around her, and she risks falling deeper into the abyss. Second, Michonne opens her eyes and faces her intricate thoughts.

Habitually, she makes a reasonable choice. Now, the logical choice is hard to establish, and the lines of reason in her mind are blurry. Michonne doesn't want to highlight a growing problem. In truth, Rick Grimes is a strange type of salvation to the young woman.

Michonne flirts with the edges of the second circle of hell. Her lust and her hate fuse to create an unnamable sentiment, which she perceives as shameful. The young woman can't stop the fall, and so she fiercely slows it down. How long can she pretend to sleep?

Rick sensually explores her body. His forefinger grazes the curvature of her hips. Michonne takes a deep breath, and she attempts to disregard the hands, which explore her burning skin.

With the loss of a sense, Michonne remaining senses intensify every stimulus. Rick's fingers, which gallop on her thigh's shivering skin, are warmer. His fingertips leave a long-lasting sensation while they draw secret patterns on her back.

Rick plump lips pressed on her collarbone are softer. His hot breath, which randomly brushes her inflamed skin, feels like a summer breeze. The tongue, which teases her hardening nipple, is cooler. When his mouth recovers her breast, the humid heat flames every inch of her skin.

His sensual caresses devastate her body. Michonne breathes Rick's scent with the accent of sex. Layers of saffron, galangal, and soft mint infiltrate every pore of her soft skin. His masculine perfume saturates her surroundings. It is on her and coats the air, which she breaths. Rick is the air around her.

"Princess" Genteel, the tone of his voice caresses her aural imagination.

With a soft bite, he drags her earlobe in his mouth and sucks. His tongues dart to soften the pain caused by his bite along her neck. his lips pressed on her ear, Rick whispers vulgar things, which the morning hoarseness of his voice disguised as eloquent poetry.

When her nails graze his scalp until his lower, Michonne hears groans, which are reassuring praises. Rick becomes every vibration around her.

Rick's fingers caress every inch of her burning skin. Every time he moves, his naked flesh brushes her naked skin. When his mouth covers her hard nipple and his hands part her leg to introduce a finger in her warm core, Michonne swallows a moan.

His mouth adores her bare stomach with lazy kisses, which teases every sensor on her skin. He drags his tongue along her smooth, and he teases her clitoris. When his hot breath caresses her pulsating core, she shut her eyes close until it's painful. When his tongue licks her wet vagina and digs into her core, she doesn't withhold her cries.

She wants to open her eyes to watch him. However, she doesn't want to alter the erotic experience. With closed eyes, her pleasure heightens.

After few tongue strokes, he introduces his finger inside her pussy. Delicately, he sucks on her engorged clitoris, and his thumbs rub the sensitive bundle of nerves. She can't resist her curiosity. Michonne peers at Rick.

She watches him, soft lips pressed against her labia and upper lip, which glistens due to her feminine juice. the imagery of Rick tainted by her juice steers the young woman closer to the edges. Hit by a wave of searing pleasure, she waits for his touch to turn her body into ashes. Encouraging his effort, she pulls a fist full of his curls.

Devoted to her satisfaction, he doesn't notice her fiery brown eyes on him. Rick drinks from her until the umami taste of her consume his taste bud. When her legs trembles, he knows she wants. He nips on her quivering clitoris, and the pleasure consumes her. The strength of her orgasm wrecks her body. Tears pools in her eyes' inner corner.

"Fuck…Rick" breathless, she moans his name and tries to gulp fresh air.

Michonne opens her eyes to face him through a glossy curtain. Her body falls from the edges, and crushing waves of delights wrecks every muscle in it. She floats for a second until she steadily recovers from her ecstatic rush.

"Good morning, princess." Nonchalantly, he recovers her mouth with his.

Disoriented and recovering from her orgasm, Michonne doesn't know how to react. However, her body appears to be alert. The young woman takes charge of the kiss. Her tongue seeks the entrance of Rick's mouth. Passionately, her hands press his body closer to hers. Her tongue taunts his tongue and leads a fiery flamenco. She kisses him until she survives with the air, which she steals from his lungs. Rick reverses their position, and Michonne's body overlaps his.

….

…

…

..

Once the passion evaporates, the embarrassment descends upon her. Michonne peruses the room, but she avoids Rick. Suddenly, the colour of the curtains fascinates the young woman. During daylight, she has never seen the room. Indeed, she spent an entire night with Rick Grimes. Michonne took down one of her last defences. Now, she wants to rebuild her walls.

The guilt and her conscience reproaches suffocate Michonne. She knows better than to run in the first arms, which comfort her. However, the last days were a succession of crazy events. Michonne justifies her recklessness. Although, she is too pious to hide behind excuses.

Her mind wanders from a tragedy to another. After her last months, doesn't she have the right to act out of character? Mike acted out of character. Perhaps, she wants to avoid such tragic fate. Rick isn't a man around who anyone should be reckless. Rick exploits every opportunity, which he has. Something is wrong with the young woman, and Michonne doesn't associate Rick and danger.

Guilt consumes her mind. The concrete hasn't dried on Mike's grave, and she wakes up in another man's bed. How far she knows, Rick hasn't killed him, but one of his men could have. Perhaps, he died in the mansion, and technically, she would have fucked on his grave. The idea makes her nauseous, and she moves further away from Rick.

Michonne wants to mourn her husband. Although, her mind will not allow her to do such a foolish thing. She has the right to outrage. His fate is on him, and she should not blame herself. Her heart is adamant, and she should be mourning her husband. Better, she should worry about her son's safety, which she has assured by sleeping with Rick. Perhaps, she deserves her forgiveness.

However, the young woman is in bed with Rick Grimes. Michonne draws a frustrated deep breath, and she tries to pacify her mind. Some of the few lies, which she tells herself after every Thursday, lose their potency. It wasn't a transient moment in the night. She wasn't under duress. He asked her what she wanted, and the answer was he.

Last night wasn't a transaction nor was it a chore. She didn't walk into his office to seek a protection. Last night, she sought him and his body. Michonne reached to Rick because strangely, she feels safe in his arms. The responses and truths, which she fights so hard to bury, resurface.

…

….

….

….

Rick lights a cigarette, and he watches the scene unfold. He knew it would end this way. He blows some smokes in the air. With a bit of resentment, he stares at Michonne. How frustrating is it to watch her paint him under the villain role? Perhaps, he should remind her whose idea it was to create the arrangement.

Another circle of smoke, Rick tries to work through his grievance. The tension in the room's atmosphere rises. Michonne is frustrated, and he is angry. The night's euphoria disappeared, and they burned the last of it amidst their morning tryst.

With destructive intentions, Ricks continues to stare at Michonne. His cigarette doesn't have the relaxing effect, which he wants to have. Michonne can't endure his stares. Consequently, she tries silently to leave Rick's bed. When the cold air caresses her skin, the young woman remembers that she is naked. Her clothes are in his office. Michonne stops in the middle of his room, and she has to face Rick. The exit will not be smooth.

"Do you want to share your thoughts?" Hesitantly, she asks.

Michonne notices the pair of blue iridescent irises, which follow her moves around the room. She expects Rick to start a conversation, which she wants to have. Although, she is reluctant to explore the subject. If she questions the morning and the night, she must admit the truth.

As an answer to Michonne's question, Rick blows circles of smoke in the air. He made his brooding, and suffering through Michonne's introspection is not appealing.

Exasperated by his lack of participation, Michonne starts to leave the room. She needs to retrieve her underwear, which is in his office. She must do the walk of shame, and she prays that there isn't a lot of his men in the corridors.

"Where are you going?" Ultimately, Rick decides to join the conversation.

Her exhibitionist tendencies compel him to speak. Rick doesn't want Michonne to offer another free peep show, and Shane made some inappropriate comments. The young man seats and waits for an answer. His eyes are on her naked body. Blue irises turn into steel grey due to growing lust.

For a second, Michonne is silent, and she tries to understand the point of Rick's question. She assumes the worse, and she thinks he is about to claim her. Her mind jumps to a conclusion.

The young woman returns inside the room, and she braces herself for the worst. Michonne doesn't want to deal with the repercussion of an unplanned night. Their arrangement was functional. Last night, she made a mistake. How is she going to destroy his illusions?

"We're not doing this." Confidently, she speaks, and she braces herself for a rebuttal.

She knows he has fallen deeper than she has. Michonne exhales and it isn't as easy as she wants it to be. Perhaps, she considers his sentiments. The young woman walks closer to the bed, and she doesn't know her purpose. Does she want to console him?

Her pity for him shows on her visage. It is how Rick interprets her twisted emotions. It is not pity, but it is the beginning of consideration. Although, it doesn't matter because the young man doesn't want her pity nor her consideration.

Once again, Rick's answer is a cigarette smoke blown in the air. He knows how to infuriate Michonne, and her reaction amuses him. If he has to be miserable, he will make her his companion of misery. Perhaps, it will console him better than her pity does.

When her brown eyes lay on him, Rick reconsiders his anger. Sometimes the warmth, which resides in her eyes, has a strange effect on him. He knows there is no point to argue. By the end of the conversation, no progress will be made. Michonne will use her supposed hate for him as a shield. However, he will indulge her. With one look, she has subdued his anger.

His weakness against Michonne baffles Rick. Rick's perplexed expression deflates Michonne's confidence. Perhaps, she should be clearer about the implication of her statement. Why does she try to soften the blow?

Michonne inhales and she returns to the bed. She slides inside the bedsheet, and she moves closer to Rick. Hesitantly, her hand looks for his. Her fingers graze Rick's one, and she doesn't dare to intertwine them.

"We can't do this now." She insists, but her words falter.

It is a silent admission, which doesn't satisfy Rick. For so long, she has assaulted his ego. Now, she wants to offer half of an explanation. Interchangeably, Michonne's forefinger points at him and her. Rick looks at her, and he pretends to be dumb. It doesn't matter if the words irremediably burn her tongue, he will have the pleasure to hear her say it. He is not the only one affected.

"Doing what, Princess?" He drawls and punctuates his sentence with more smoke blown in the air.

Rick's impliable attitude frustrates Michonne. She doesn't have his undivided attention, and it is uncommon. Begrudgingly, she stares at his cigarette, which is the offending object. Michonne lifts Rick's chin, and she removes the cigarette from his lips.

To disturb her, his tongue darts out, and he locks her forefinger in his mouth. Michonne chooses to ignore his ill-humour. Although, she reconsiders her soft approach.

"Morning sex... spending the night with you... or this...or...Rick" Flustered by the caress of his tongue on her finger, Michonne stammers after every word.

When he takes the liberty to rearrange her position, she chastises him. Michonne pulls her finger out of his mouth and swats the hand, which snakes around her waist.

"Yeah...?" He questions her because her rules exclusively serve her.

If Rick has its way, she will spend his life with him. Consequently, it includes everything, which she bans. After tonight, He can't regress to rationed affection. However, he doesn't voice his thoughts. When she returned to this bed, she almost made her decision.

"We don't have to act as if it is meant to be more than an exchange of services." She continues to explain herself.

Rick notices that the monologue isn't for his sake. She reassures herself, and she wants to convince him to overlook her moment of weakness. He isn't so merciful nor suffers from a sort of martyr complex.

It is a thing not to force his sentiments on her, and it is a constant selfless act not to prey on every weakness, which she has. Rick is egotistical, which is why he wants her to fall for me, but he is not selfless. When he sees a weakness, he exploits it.

"It ain't hard to answer a simple question. Where are you going? Yet, you want to define this thang between us." He retells the present event to point out the flaws in her reasoning.

The young woman claims she doesn't want anything to change, but her reaction points to the contrary. Subconsciously, Michonne tries to define them as more than the arrangement.

"No, you didn't ask for a name to this relationship," She stops after her Freudian slip.

Pointedly, Rick stares at her. Michonne blushes, and now she wants to retrieve the distance between them. She moves out of the bed, and she stands near it.

"You act as if it's more than what it is. The way you look at me and this..." She loses her words because the simple words this encompasses many things.

Michonne wants to point out how he treats her differently from anyone else around him. However, she must admit that she isn't blind to his efforts. If she continues to speak, she must accept that Rick is a multi-layered character. She isn't afraid of his ugliest side, and she could easily adore his softer sides. The man, who is genteel with her son, will win her heart.

"Will it make you feel better ?" Regretfully, he asks.

In a very subtle sentence, Rick asks Michonne if discussing their non-existent relationship will help her feel better. Thankful for his agreement, she nods.

He joins her where she stands, and his arm circles her waist. With his finger on her chin, Rick tilts Michonne's head so he can look into her eyes. He knows he is an idiot, and he is going to overlook her moment of weakness.

"Indulge me," Michonne replies.

The young woman has too much on her plate, and she can't risk losing herself. If she prevents the fall, Michonne has a chance to have a normal life. However, she can do it if Rick finds a way to pull her down. Silently, she asks him to abandon the pursuit of her. He has to take what she can offer, which is sex.

"You broke one of your sacred rules." a silent anger underlines his voice, and his words are an accusation.

Why does he have to pay the price of her mistake?

Rick doesn't remember the last time when he did the noble thing. Perhaps, it was in his idealistic youth. Now, he serves himself first. Now, Michonne stands in front of him, and he must care for her sanity over his.

"You spent an entire night with me, and you like it just as you already knew you will." The octave in his voice drops, and soft husky sounds fill Michonne's ears.

It is a demonstration. Rick displays the charm, which she fears so much. His fingers move from her chin to her cheeks. His caress is tender and slow. She is unused to this side of him.

"You want to have the morning-after conversation, but you have your mind made on this thang. By listening, I indulge you." He lowers his voice to a suave tone and caresses her cheeks with his knuckles

Rick tucks a free dreadlock behind her ear. His polished touch flustered Michonne. It is unusual and confirms what she thinks. Something is different between her and him. It is no longer carnal. Rick knows how to confuse her. He takes pleasure from unsettling her with benign touches.

"Consider it an amendment to the arrangement, princess. You don't have to cuddle with me at night. Fuck me the way I want, and then if you want, wash my stench away. It won't make you cleaner, but you will be able to sleep at night. Nothang has changed, and you've your arrangement." Grudgingly, Rick acquiesces to her plea.

"I..." Michonne wants to explain herself.

His words are a cruder version of her thoughts. Michonne has her selfish moments. However, she stands on the moralist side, and it renders everything fair. It will be nothing more than an arrangement. Strangely, the young woman is dissatisfied.

…

…

…

…

"Now, where are you going?" he questions her while he walks toward the closet.

In a strange twist of event, their previous conversation lifted a weight from his shoulders. Although, it has the opposite effect on Michonne. At every instant, her heart trembles due to trepidation.

"Do I have to report to you every one of my movements? Is it an amendment too?" Frustrated by the end of their morning-after conservation, Michonne can't prevent her abrasive answer.

"Ideally, yeah...I can make sure you're safe there, or you're fucking me for free." Casually, he silences her frustration.

"I..." Michonne doesn't have an ideal answer to that statement.

She reminds herself to breathe, and Rick Grimes will not send her to an early grave. However, when she faces his easy smirk, her patience thins. She needs another deep breath.

"I need to pick up my son from my parent's place" She replies

"Was it so hard to say?" He taunts her, and he finishes zipping his pants.

"Where are you going?" She returns his question when he starts to wear his shirt.

"You ain't going alone to your mama." He deadpans.

Rick starts to dig inside his closet. He pulls out another one of his shirts, and he walks toward Michonne.

"You can't come with me. What will she think when she sees you and me?" Panic coats her words.

How does she explain her night disappearance with a man by her side? Michonne knows what she looks like after a fuck with Rick. She can't prevent it, her body needs to broadcast how good it feels. A look and her mother will sermon her.

"She will jump to a conclusion like her daughter does after a single night." Rick teases Michonne.

A flustered Michonne swats his shoulder. Genuinely, he laughs at her indignation. It is no laughing matter, he has no idea how her mother can be. Although, he laughs at her misfortune with no malice.

She must admit the sound of his laugh isn't the worst thing, which she heard. It is melodious and manly. Michonne tries to establish how serious Rick is. Her desperate expression has entertaining virtues.

"Relax, Sasha will watch over you, and then she will move you and your son to your new house." Rick corrects him, and he places one of his shirts over her shoulder.

Michonne process his words while he helps her slide in his oversized shirt.

"A new house? I'm not moving into the mansion." Surprise coats her words.

The mansion is a secured place. Harmed men roam around day and night. Consequently, it is almost an impregnable fortress. For Michonne, it will be the logical choice.

In truth, the place can randomly be attacked, and for multiple reasons, it is inconvenient. Most of his deals happen in the mansion.

"The mansion ain't a place to raise a kid, and too many harmed people roam around..." Distracted by Michonne's expression, Rick stops speaking in mid-sentence.

The young woman doesn't know how to react. She stares at Rick as if she met a stranger. Somewhere in her mind, Michonne knows he can be thoughtful, but for him to care about the setting where she raises her son feels surrealist.

Michonne continues to look at him as she would an unknown creature. Rick doesn't know if the perception, which she has of him, should offend him. What type of a monster does she imagine he is? He kills people and has some shady deals. Other than those tarnishing details, he is a normal human, who can't harm puppies and children.

"Also I need you close to me" He finishes speaking while he closes the last button of her shirt.

Michonne loses the context of the conversation, and she doesn't know what to do with that statement. Her hand recovers the hand, which continues to hold a button on the shirt.

"Nothing has changed, right." it is a hesitant whisper, a rhetorical question, which she fails to answer.

"Nothang?" Sceptical, he returns her question.

Michonne is more affected by last night than she should be. Buried emotions desperately dig their way to the surface. Their assault on her reason is brutal. Michonne throat dries. She doesn't know how to answer his question nor does she know how to answer her own.

Rick releases the shirt. With his now free hand, he caresses the radial side of her wrist. He feels her galloping pulse.

"Nothang, just an arrangement." He repeats for good measure, but he has his answer with the reaction of her body.

Michonne can continue to hide behind her lies and shielding walls. A detail has changed.

* * *

 **Saturday afternoon approximately 1 p.m**

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 **:**

He can't take her out of his mind, and the arrogant way with which she treated him. Michonne haunts Shane's thoughts. The woman becomes a growing fascination. Her possible link to Rick sweetens the deal.

His partner may think he is above any suspicions. However, Shane knows Rick since early childhood. The way the detective looked at Michonne was unmistakable. There was want, lust, and need in those look.

Although, it is enough to accuse him of anything. Once Michonne disrobed, Shane also had the same fiery eyes on her. She is a beautiful woman. Perhaps, she is the most beautiful woman. The way she talks and holds herself. Shane is not into powerful woman, but for a second he felt drawn. Consequently, Rick's behaviour is nothing abnormal.

Shane needs something on Rick, but his friend is holier than though. His interaction with Michonne is the first thing, which remotely looks suspicious. Accordingly, the detective will chase the thread.

"Dixon, can I talk to you for a minute about a case you covered with Grimes in my absence?" Shane approaches merle.

"Your absence?" His tone is joyful, and he adds a mocking laugh.

Merle teases Shane about his trip with his partner wife. The entire department knows what Shane does during his vacancy. Before the older man used to think Rick was an idiot, but after their last interaction, he is no longer sure.

"Yeah, do you know something that I don't?" Shane doesn't share the other detectives' humour.

His affair with Lori turned Rick in the office's joke, but Shane doesn't escape the judgmental looks nor does he receive any respect. With the exception of the sex, his affair doesn't bring any gratification. He can't console himself with the thought of a future with Lori. She won't give up Rick.

"Slowdown, it's a joke." Merle tries to pacify the situation.

The old detective is talkative, but his actions don't support his words. Shane is famous in the department for his violent anger, which Merle doesn't want to be on the receiving end.

"Find someone else to appreciate your jokes." Shane deadpans.

…..

….

…

…

With his anger, Shane forgets what he wants to know. He glares at Merle until the older man becomes uncomfortable. To dissipate the tension between Shane and him, Merle decides to revisit the original reason of Shane presence at his desk.

"Alright! The case, you wanted to ask about a case." he presses and wants Shane to calm down.

"Yeah, the missing man Mike Anthony." Shane answers while he tries to calm down

Dixon has a grudge against Rick for an unknown reason, but Shane can exploit it. Perhaps, the man noticed something abnormal with his best friend.

"Mike Anthony…Mike Anthony. The Nubian queen's husband." Merle tries to remember his file, but Michonne is his first thought.

From the dirty smile, which sits on Merle's lips, Shane assumes lust is a reasonable outcome of a meeting with Michonne. Rick isn't an isolated case, but he stands out more because he is the righteous officer.

"I heard you dismissed the case, now the man is dead." His voice echoes in the half-empty office, and everyone present hears the accusation and the blame.

It is an intimidation technique. Shane wants to force Merle to make Rick a scapegoat. From there, Michonne words may gain some weight. How long will Lori stand by a man with a crumbling reputation? Shane knows how his paramour thinks.

"I had solid reasons to dismiss the case." Defensively, Merle counters.

"Which are?" The younger detective retains his sceptical tone.

"You know those coloured, and it made sense. He abandoned his wife and child." Merle's bigotry is prevalent.

The exchange frustrates Shane. He questions his sanity. Merle is not a trustworthy source. He can barely do his detective work. However, Shane is desperate, and he is not ready to abandon his only chance to find dirt on Rick.

"They sent threats and organs." He deadpans.

When Shane mentions the mistake in procedure, Merle panics. Most of his cases are poorly handled. The older detective doesn't want someone to dig in his work. It may ruin his career.

"I followed the protocol and brought the pretty boy in. The threats weren't solid, and the lab's result confirmed it. Pretty boy is sending you after me because I wasn't proper with his lover." With eagerness to displace the blame, many accusations against Rick pour out of Merle's mouth.

"Dixon, what are you talking about?" Shane's voice echoes in the room, and it reaches the wrong ears.

..

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..

"Yeah, Dixon what are you talking about?" Rick hisses while he advances to stand by Shane.

The universe will not allow him a break. He hoped his suspicions toward Shane were false. However, what can he expect for a man, who is eager to replace him in his wife bed? Rick has to prevent a derisory laugh from bursting out. How can he be persecuted for Lori's doe eyes?

Rick doesn't remember the last time when he fucked Lori not for common courtesy or marital duty. However, he has to suffer the fury of a disheartened sideman. Shane is one of the reasons, which keeps Rick away from the mansion. He needs to watch his partner. Ironically, Shane almost lives in his home.

"Now you're here pretty boy, you can tell me and your partner why you went batshit crazy to protect the Nubian queen." When facing officer friendly, it is easier for Merle to use a foul language.

Rick clenches his teeth. Every time, he sees the older detective, rage fills his entire body. However, he decides to work around the problem. Sometimes, his facade personality accomplishes the hardest task. Rick looks back and forth between Shane and Merle. He can't allow them to work together.

"you didn't think your racism was out of place, and it would put the department in trouble." The righteousness in his tone resonates better with the softer persona, which he adopts.

He knows Merle will take the bait. It is so easy to frustrate the man. He is a bigot who refuses to be called a racist.

"No, I thought the boner in your pants and the heart eyes made her more uncomfortable than the truth." Merle spits in return.

The conflict escalates at the right speed. Shane is too busy with his attempt to calm both parties, and so he doesn't register Merle's answer.

"This is why everyone thinks you're a piece of shit, but they don't have the ball to tell you. Was I supposed to let you abuse a grieving woman?" Ricks asks.

"Officer friendly, captain save a coloured whore. You should have the same ball to satisfy your wife." Viciously, Merle adds while he tries to humiliate Rick.

Rick's eyes narrow on Shane, and he expects a reaction. It is immediate. Now that the conversation starts to expose his skeleton, Shane's aggressiveness resurfaces.

"Alright, that's enough." Shane shoves Merle away from Rick.

"Is it?" The older detective shouts, and he tries to reach Rick.

Conveniently, Rick steps back from the conflict. He allows the two other men to become the focus of the scene. The crowd, which surrounds them, grows. Today event will erase the little ruckus, which he caused yesterday.

"Move Dixon before I make you." Aggressively, Shane threatens the older detective.

He punctuates his sentence with another shove, and Rick binds his time to intervene.

"Alright Walsh, I was letting lover boy her in some truths and helping your cause." Merle refuses to go without adding oil to the fire.

"Piece of shit." Shane tries to catch up with him, but Rick holds him back.

"Calm down, Shane." Ricks drags his partner away from the watching crowd.

"Why were you talking with Dixon?" Rick continues to press his advantages.

"No longer matters, he is batshit crazy." Frustrated, Shane shouts with the hope that Merle will hear him.

"Yeah, but he ain't far from the truth with Lori." Hesitantly, Rick adds.

"I know I ain't good for all this feelings shit but I'm her partner." Shane tries to hide the eagerness in his voice, but Rick has sharp ears.

The young detective has to fight a mocking laugh to keep a neutral expression. Rick continues to steer the attention away from him, and he chooses to create some discord between Shane and his wife. If Shane focuses on Lori, it will help Rick, and he will prepare his friend's demise. Rick hates when people want to dig too deep into his life, and Shane has started to do it.

"She wants to work on our problems, and with this big case, I don't know. Anyways…I'm trying." after every word, rick studies Shane's reaction.

"I have to pick Carl so we can spend the day together."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Saturday afternoon 4 p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

The silence in the car is thick. It is unusual, and Rick worries. His son is the quiet type, but some silences are talkative. Rick knows one way to comfort his son. It isn't the best way, but he has never tried a different one. Consequently, he makes a turn, and he drives him to the comic book store.

"Why are we stopping? Dad, we're going to be late. "Carl questions when the car comes to an abrupt stop.

The young boy expects the baseball stadium, but Rick doesn't tolerate the sadness, which he senses in his son. He opens the car doors and drags the teenager inside the shop.

"Last month, you told me that you wanted new comic books." He replies.

Carl doesn't believe his father poor excuses. The boy knows Rick. Materialistic things are his way to apologize or console. Accordingly, Carl decides to clean the traces of sadness. He doesn't want to ruin the day. Although, it is futile to hide his pain.

"When I failed my test, you told me no." Sceptical, he counters.

"Well, I promised that if there were exceptional circumstances, I'll buy your comics." Rick insists.

He starts to pile the comics, which he knows are his son favourites. He tries to remember every little detail about his child, and it doesn't matter the type of conversation. Rick listens and responds.

"Nothing exceptional happened, dad." Carl continues to squash every excuse, which Rick proposes.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Ultimately, Rick decides to admit his guilt.

Rick knows he is the cause of his son's sadness, and he needs to fix his mistake. Carl is the unique person, who he promised not to hurt. Despite his best efforts, he broke the promise.

"For what?" Surprised, Carl wants to figure out the motive behind the apology.

"I know you heard the fight between your mom and me. I'm sorry you heard it." Rick continues to speak.

Carl's expression is a mixture of emotions. His father consideration touches him, but guilt also invades him. The child discomfort intensifies, and he wipes his tears before they can fall.

"Dad, you don't have to." He insists and wants to return the comics to the shelves.

Now, he feels undeserving of the gift. Rick returns the book to his son.

" You deserved them, and I heard school is going well." He explains, and he tries to convince Carl to take the comic-book.

Rick doesn't know how to apologize for his actions. He feels a lot of guilt about his absences, but he doesn't want to endanger his son's life. Presents are his method to absolve his guilt. Multiple unused toys and games fill Carl's room.

"Dad, did mom tell you?" Hesitantly, Carl questions his father.

"What's going on between your mother and me, it's complicated. Don't worry about it. Yeah…We fought, but I'm trying to fix us." He tries to infuse sincerity to his words.

Rick wants to reassure his son, and he doesn't want his other life to weight on Carl's shoulder. However, his mobster life took everything from his child. The detective may overcompensate, but the extents of the damage are significant.

"Perhaps, you shouldn't fix it." Carl mumbles.

At this point in his young life, Carl wishes to be far away from his home. The young boy is tired of his mother shenanigans. Perhaps, a divorce will lead to a better life.

"You say somethang, son?" With a concerned expression, Rick turns to face his son.

The opportunity presents itself. Now, Carl can reveal his mother's dirty secret, which burdens him. Despite his best attempts to be brave, Lori's words are engraved in her son's mind. Consequently, the teenager swallows the bitter words, and he retracts his statement.

"Thank you for the comics." Anxiously, he adds a smile to cover his previous statement.

Rick nods, and he drags his son into a hug. It is a bit maladroit. Carl is a teenager, who doesn't want his father to hug him in public, and Rick is a man, who silences every emotion. Around Carl, the detective tries to be his old self, but he is gauche. Weekends are days when he allows himself to laugh.

"Sorry again." With an extreme sincerity, he apologizes.

Carl is the last person, who he wants to hurt with his antics. Rick ruffles his son's hair, and he drags the young boy out of the comic book shop. Arms charged with books, Carl tries to silence his personal guilt.

….

….

….

….

It takes a few minutes for the father and son day to start. Through the day, Carl's smile becomes brighter. The stadium's atmosphere alleviates the boy's mood. Two hours later, He endlessly talks about everything and nothing.

Rick attempts to follow the conversation, but Carl speaks fast. When his eyes land on a familiar face, the detective becomes distracted. Rick removes his caps from his head, and he puts it on Carl's head. Careful not to alarm his son, he moves a seat away. He doesn't want anyone to make the connection.

The universe has a personal grudge against Rick Grimes. Near their section, Rick notices Negan and few of his men. He pulls the baseball hat on Carl's head lower. For such reasons, he doesn't spend too much time with his son. Sometimes, His hidden life collides with his public life.

"Dad, you're distracted," When his father no longer answers to his question, Carl complains.

"Am I?" Distracted, Rick replies.

His eyes don't leave Negan, and thoughts of Michonne invade his minds. Now, He can end everything. Rick glances at his son, and he decides to abstain. He will wait for a calmer spot.

"Yes, you missed a great shot." The teenager continues to complain.

"Alright, I have a big case. For a second, I started to think of it." With the truth, Rick tries to pacify his son, and he turns to focus on Carl.

"Can I hear it?" Eagerness coats every word, which Carl pronounces.

"It's boring thangs." Rick tries to dismiss his son, but he knows better.

Carl has a fascination with Police work. As a child, he wanted to be a homicide detective like his father, but he didn't understand the meaning of homicide.

"Dad, please?" He insists and pleads for a minute.

Rick gives in, and he tells a censored version of Michonne's story. The teenager consumes every line with excitement. Rick watches the machinery in his son's head starts to move. For a second, Carl is calm. Suddenly, his face lights up due to an epiphany.

"It's like in the movies, and they want her to return what her husband stole in 7days. The money, how will she do? Are you going to protect her? You're going to save her, right." He fires multiple questions.

However, Rick registers a valuable element. He doesn't have seven days to protect her. He has seven days to find what Negan wants. After the seven days, all bets are off. They will hunt her, and he will have to protect her. However, the waste of men is avoidable.

"Slow down, Carl. I doubt they want the money back. Her husband stole something precious." Rick starts to think aloud.

"Dad, what is the most precious thing to a mobster? In the movies, it is always what they steal. Her husband stole it, and he gave it to her." Carl continues his series of question.

"The books." The response to Carl's question is immediate.

How didn't he think about it? A mob organization is similar to every business. The books are the records of everything. From the first transactions to the future ones, the books contain everything.

The book is the place, where they record every asset. From the building to stock the weapons to the mansion on a random island, The books contain the information. The murders are recorded, and the book mentions the business partner.

The books can be anything or anyone. It can be an access key or a lover. The books can be multiple people. Only one fact is true, whoever has the books of a mob organization can overtake it. If they stole his books, Rick will kill too. However, it will never happen. Rick is the books of his organization. He doesn't trust anyone but himself.

"Books? Mobster read." Surprised, Carl can't help but ask his ignorant question.

"Somethang like that. Now, let finish the game and have dinner. Your mother will start to worry." Once again, he is distracted by his thoughts.

The detective has to find out what are the saviors' books. It will be easier to negotiate with them. A war is expensive. Rick's eyes seek Negan, but he is no longer in the stadium. The rest of a day passes in a blur. Later, Rick drops back his son home. Perhaps, it is time that he starts to looks into Mike's girlfriend.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 3 a.m**

 **:**

 **:**

It is a new bedtime, but the damned cycle consumes his night. Carl doesn't cover the sounds of his mother's moans with music. The sound of the bed, which bangs against the wall, irritates him. The young man hasn't found his earbuds. The teenager will not allow his mother to spoil his weekend. Accordingly, he chooses to leave.

Carl pulls his heavy jacket to protect himself from the cold. He stuffs the new comic books, which his father bought inside his backpack. In a similar fashion to the previous night, He sneaks out of his room. The teenager goes to sit on the neighbouring house's porch, and he braces himself for a long cold night.

The light on the porch goes on, and the door opens. Carl doesn't immediately react. This house never had an occupant, and so he is afraid. Perhaps, squatters invaded it. When his eyes land on the woman in the doorframe, the boy changes his mind. She looks nothing like a squatter.

"Hello." He hears while she starts to walk toward him.

Carl stares at the woman with dreadlocks and a baby on her hip. Is she his new neighbour?


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

* * *

 **Chapter VI: The wicked don't rest on Sunday**

* * *

 **Saturday 7 p.m**

After an hour of ear-bleeding silence, Michonne draws a deep breath. She removes her head from the car window, and she stops staring at the passing landscapes. The young woman fastens one more time Andre's car seat, and lovingly, she smiles at her son.

"Michonne." She starts a conversation to dissipate the tension in the car.

Michonne no longer supports the silence and the tension, which it creates. The young woman, who Rick ordered to escort her, maintains her eyes from the road. Unsure if she heard her voice, Michonne repeats herself.

Sasha glances back, and she doesn't know why the other woman wants to converse. For the last hours, she felt Michonne bores holes in her back.

"I know." The answer is cold and reveals Sasha's annoyance.

The road to Michonne's new home is long, and Sasha will prefer to reach the place without an unpleasant conversation. However, for the last hour, Michonne's questioning look sullied the atmosphere. She isn't willing to talk with a person, who stares at her with subtle anger.

For Michonne, Sasha's annoyance results from personal grudges. Earlier, she witnessed the exchange between Rick and the woman. If it was platonic, she couldn't tell. Conceivably, she projects her jealousy on to Sasha.

The exchange between Rick and Sasha was impactful, and it made Michonne question the relationship between the pair. A few whispers don't stand for a universal sign of intimacy. Whispers, she saw Rick whisper into Sasha's ear. Her personal experience with Rick whispering in the hollow of her neck influences her perception of the situation.

To Michonne, she can't be Rick's only mistress. Previously, it never aroused her concern. Entitlement to his fidelity is not part of the arrangement. The unexpected jealousy, which Rick's interaction with another woman causes, is an unforeseen consequence. Although, when she retrieves her bravery and breaks the bubble of denial, Michonne will understand the arrangement ceased to possess solid foundations.

"The entire mansion knows who you're, princess. Around here, you're the new queen." Sasha adds the bitter tone, which bears an undeniable annoyance.

Although, her annoyance doesn't result from jealousy. The young woman doesn't enjoy babysitting. Unfortunately, Michonne's situation thrusts her into the position. When she calls Michonne the queen, it isn't a mockery, and between Rick's men, it is her official code name.

"Okay," Michonne loses her eloquence.

After Sasha's blunt statement, Michonne doesn't think she can finish her questioning. Reasonably, the silence is a great thing, and she will avoid a humiliation. The young woman decides to face the window and suffers through the awkward ride. Today, something must be wrong with her, and she feels the need to establish a connection. Perhaps, Mike's death makes her seek external connection, or she is afraid to face her thoughts.

"Are you the old queen?" The words stumble on each other while her curiosity wins over her reason.

Ultimately, Michonne asks the question.

Surprised by her question, Sasha turns to face her. It is the first time the young woman hears Michonne speak to someone else than Rick. When she is in the mansion, she always walks with her nose high up in the air. The pet name fits the character. Although, none of Rick will dare to use it.

"Sasha, and there is no old queen. You're the first woman, who Rick doesn't discard the next morning. " She answers Michonne's question with less abrasiveness.

Following her answer, the atmosphere in the car is less tense. It confirms a single thought, which Michonne isn't proud to acknowledge. The tension was a projection of her jealous inclination.

The young woman can convince Rick to abide by the arrangement's rules, but her wild heart is the biggest threat. Each new day, the line between lust and fondness blurs. The tension in the car is a result of her maladroit attempt to state her claim on Rick. With the discovery, another silence falls on the car's occupants. Michonne decides to focus on her son.

Michonne doesn't want the toddler to worry while they cross-unfamiliar roads. Although, she projects her emotions on her son. There are too many abrupt changes, and the young woman will prefer to live inside the mansion. The old operation base grounds her, and it is a permanent reminder of her situation.

...

...

...

The kilometres of green grass stupefy Andre. He wonders each time they pass a house. The young child grew around the high buildings. When he sees dogs, who their owners walk along the roads, the toddler laughs. He calls for his mother and tries to show her the reason for his happiness. Tenderly, Michonne returns his smile.

"Here, we've arrived at your new home." Sasha regains Michonne's attention.

The young woman looks through the window, and the home doesn't equate her expectation. Her heart constricts due to growing fear. Ultimately, she admits the arrangement stands on wobbling foundations. When she stares at the suburban house, which Rick chose, Michonne questions how she will preserve her protective walls.

From the green yard to the white picket fences, they will be playing house. With her collapsing defences, anything may strengthen her burgeoning feelings.

"You can come inside." Promptly, she asks Sasha.

It is an act of desperation. Michonne wants to use Sasha as a shield. After the morning interaction, the young woman doesn't trust herself around Rick. She tries to hide behind various lies, but the truth continues to be boisterous. Given the opportunity, Rick Grimes will dig a sinuous path to her heart.

"I can't. I have to watch for every threat to you or your son." Surprised by the awkward offers, Sasha rejects the offer.

"Thanks for watching out for me and my son." Politely, Michonne adds.

The young woman tries to conceal her increasing stress. Michonne frees her son from the seat belt and puts out of the car.

"Rick wouldn't allow me to choose a better assessment. He is a protective asshole. If he starts a war with the saviors, he wants his best men to watch out for his precious princess. I'm his best shooter, and I will be of better use on the ground." Sasha deadpans, and Michonne continues to learn about the woman.

Although, Michonne's mind isolates the extra detail about Rick. For a much, who she tries too hard to portray as a monster, He cares more about her family than her husband did.

Michonne ceased to deceive herself on one matter. Rick is right Mike didn't care for anyone but his little person. She needs to fight her dependable character. In Mike, she wasted her loyalty. Although, Rick is the opposite of her husband. However, as a protection mechanism, she projects Mike's flaw on Rick to downplay the quality, which could make her fall for the mobster.

"So I discovered, and sorry..." Bitterness smears her words.

It doesn't matter how hard she works to dismiss Rick's qualities. Michonne is too aware of the man to miss the details, which humanise him. It is easier to fall in love with a human, but she fights her growing sentiment for the monster. How much can her shielding walls take before the fissures precipitate their downfall?

"Don't be. I'm sure we will have our fair share of actions. You're the catalyst of a brewing war." Sasha's words drag her out of her sentimental turmoil.

As long as she focuses on her family survival, Michonne will have a layer of protection against Rick Grimes. She takes her son's hand, and she walks into their new home.

* * *

 **Saturday 9 p.m.**

Perhaps, the fates intend to mock her resolution. When she walks into her new home, Rick sits on her new sofa. For a second, she appraises his appearance. Much like the first time when she met him, his aura overwhelms her. Michonne doubts her next move. Rick's presence appears to be a business visit.

Regretfully, Michonne recalls her morning request. Although, she doesn't want Rick to treat her as if she is a meaningless transaction. When Rick cold affection fades, the arrangement is poisonous to her soul.

As she continues to walk deeper into the room, Michonne regrets his warmth. The mobster isn't the most pleasant persona. Although, it is the side of him, which captivates her the most. It is the part of Rick, which she is ashamed to cherish.

Michonne inhales and her lungs must filtrate the fresh air from the circle of smoke, which Rick releases in her living room. Slowly, Rick puts down a tumbler of bourbon, and he waits for Michonne to join him on the sofa.

The young woman is wary of Rick. With Andre around, Michonne's watchfulness increases. Although, she doesn't fear Rick's. The sympathetic officer or the violent criminal, the persona doesn't matter.

Nevertheless, she knows when to tread carefully around him. When he bends to greet Andre, he confuses her. Michonne expects the violent man, who offered her a man in a trunk as the token of his affection.

Now, she stares at Rick, who introduces himself to her son. He has a short conversation with Andre, who wants to climb on his shoulder. Patiently, Ricks explains to the toddler why he will have to wait. Michonne expects Andre to throw a tantrum but pleased with Rick's explanation, her son nods.

Fascinated, the young woman stares at the mobster. She wonders how long she will resist his magical charm. If her timid son becomes attach to Rick, she will have little chances to come out of the arrangement unscattered. Perhaps, she spoke too fast. This Rick scares her.

...

...

...

With his forefinger's knuckle, Rick caresses Michonne's cheek. He regains her attention and breaks her mind out the magical daze, which his interaction with her son induces.

"Do you know what books are?" Tired of waiting for her decision to come closer, Rick closes the remaining distance.

His left palm recovers her right cheek, and he drags his thumb along her goose bumped skin. The switch in personality, which happens in a split second, fascinates Michonne. She tries to ignore his touch on her skin, but as he focuses on erogenous points, it becomes harder.

"Andre" She whispers as a supplication.

A sleek smirk stands for Rick's answer. The woman always exaggerates his perversion. However, the mobster commends Michonne's dirty mind, but he doesn't intend to fuck her while her son is around. They are both adults, who possess minimal decency.

"I will never." The huskiness of his voice turns the statement into a declaration of mischievous intent.

However, she believes him. From his last interaction with Andre, Michonne faced his nurturing side. It is alarming, but she will trust any persona of Rick.

"Now about those books, princess." Rick redirects the topic to his previous question.

"I'm a criminal law barrister, and it is obvious I know what books are." When his thumb grazes her carotid pulse, the words fluidly pours out of her lips.

She stares in the frosted cobalt ocean, which presently inhabits his eyes. Michonne is unsure of the reason behind the interrogation. However, she doesn't mistake his caress for love touches. It is his version of torture and interrogation. The young man alters his usual approach. The thought of hurting Michonne repulses Rick. However, he is familiar with her tendency to withhold critical knowledge.

"I ain't forget miss attorney, and so it has me thinking." He poses to see if she continues to listen.

Satisfied by the entranced expression on her visage, he rewards her with a slow caress. His hand runs along her back, and ultimately, his fingers dig in Michonne's delicate flesh. Part of her blouse slides higher to reveal her toned back.

"Your dead husband is a dumbass." Taking a jab at Mike must have become his favourite sport, but even through death, the man continues to worsen his life.

Rick can forgive few millions dollar stolen, but he draws the limits when the messiness extends to his woman.

"What'll you do with my books or the saviors' books?" He continues to feel the pulsation of her blood.

When she hesitates, her slow pulse caresses the tip of his thumb. If she didn't resist, she wouldn't be his Michonne. Her eyes are expressive to a fault. A single immersion into the brown of her eyes suffices to predict her next move. With a firm hand on her waist, he drags her closer to him. Lazily, he caresses the bare part of her skin. Consciously, he avoids each erogenous parts. Frustration grows in Michonne.

"Overtake the organisation. If I risk my life for any types of books, I intend to overtake the organisation." She answers him and steadies his hand.

"Not run, not hide, but overtake." Rick points out.

He wants to kiss her as a reward for her brilliance. Although, he is mindful of the crowd. Rick knows how passionate a single kiss can be. When his lips graze Michonne's one, it is with the intent to consume. The mobster doesn't believe a toddler should witness such display of passion.

"Why are you interrogating me?" She questions while she puts space between their bodies.

When she notices the changes in the steel blue of his eyes, Michonne heeds the warning. Through the entire conversation, they tried to keep their voice neutral. Michonne and Rick haven't forgotten Andre's presence. Although, Rick's body doesn't have the same decency, and he adjusts his pants for comfort.

"I ain't." He replies nonchalantly.

Carefully, he pulls her blouse down. His fingers graze her skin for a few seconds too long.

"I needed a brilliant partner to run my ideas, and you've met mine." Rick takes few steps away from Michonne.

...

...

...

"He stole their book." Gravity infiltrates the tone of her voice.

As she told Rick, she is criminal law barrister. If she continued to practice law, Michonne would defend men like Rick and Negan. The young woman knows the values of books. Gradually, her complex crisis worsens.

"Mike's girlfriend stole the books, but the fool ran away with the wrong bitch." Rick corrects Michonne's misconception.

The mobster recovers Andre's ears with his hands. Rick knows the conversation will take a dangerous turn, and the young man will have a harder time to prevent a curse from slipping into the conversation.

When Michonne's expression change from distressed to broken, Rick curses the heaven. He thought she knew about Mike's liaison. Unfortunately, he continues to be the bearer of bad news in her life. When the first tear grazes her cheek, the young man discovers a new reason to hate the dead man.

"I..." Michonne hesitates.

In truth, she doesn't know what to say. The words die on the tip of her tongue. How can a single man perpetually cause so much pain? Perhaps, she is the naive idiot. The reason for her pains seems ridiculous. If it stands the comparison to Mike's previous action, the adultery is irrelevant.

Nevertheless, it hurts more than everything else does because it takes away a detail, which kept her sane. For years, she lived a lie. There is no consolation. Her guilt and the torturous nights, when she needed to know where her husband was.

When she senses a small hand in hers, Michonne holds the tears.

She promised herself that she would not cry in front of her son. She tries to take a deep breath, but her lungs fail to retain the air. Michonne tries to focus on Rick.

"Please..." She is unsure of what she asks of him.

Although, she is confident that he understands her request. Rick has to go back on his words. How many rules does he have to break for her sake? He takes the hand, which she extends toward him. Careful not to hurt Andre, who refuses to let go of his mother, Rick pulls Michonne into his protective embrace. She rests her head in his chest, and successfully, she hides her tears from her son.

"There is no way out of this. I don't have those books." She whispers and wraps her free arm around Rick's waist.

"I tried...Leaving us wasn't enough, and he had to cheat on me. Cheating wasn't enough, and we have to pay because of his girlfriend. I mourned his dumb ass." She continues to lament.

She pours her heart out in his arms. Rick silently listens, and he mentally berates himself. With a reluctant caress, he soothes her. The young man must bite his tongue. Rudeness will only break her.

Does he have any honour left? Michonne turned him into a girlfriend. She cries over another man on his shoulder. The soothing sentences, which he tells her, sound so borrowed from officer friendly. She knows how to reach the softer side of him, but easily she entertains the wilder side of him.

In truth, Rick doesn't care much about the reason behind her cries.

Somehow, the new form of abandon, which Michonne displays in front of him, strengthens his machismo. She is his woman, and he must tolerate her antics. Although, he will only tolerate it an hour.

"Slow down, Princess." he tries to reach her.

"Michonne, breathe." Rick insists, and he wants to tell her more.

However, he doesn't think she will appreciate his worry about his designer shirt. Mike Anthony continues to ruin things in his life. How long until he can have a proper grave. Rick wonders if Michonne will accept to fuck on his grave.

"You don't understand I loved him." She complains.

Instead of verbalising his frustration, Rick tightens the hug.

" He left us, and I continued loving him. He was fucking someone else. I don't have their books, and I'm sorry you couldn't kill him." Viciously, she spits the last sentence.

Finally, a statement, which soothes Rick's ego. More than anyone else, Rick regrets not killing Mike. If he concentrated on his business rather than thinking of ways to spend more time with Michonne, he may have found Mike before Negan.

However, finding Mike was a sure way to lose Michonne. His regrets don't hold against that thought.

She has forgiven many things, but she can't forgive a fresh ink on her death contract. Michonne tightly hugs Rick until her tears dry.

Andre, who still holds his mother's hand, unclasps his fingers from hers, and he joins the hug.

The toddler doesn't want to miss what he assumes to be a happy thing. He looks up to Rick, and with expecting eyes, he silently asks if he is doing it right. Rick is not sure about his hug, and so his expertise may be wrong.

"Hold your mother tighter."

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 3 a.m**

:

:

It is a new bedtime, but the damned cycle consumes his night. Carl doesn't cover the sounds of his mother's moans with music. The sound of the bed, which bangs against the wall, irritates him. The young man hasn't found his earbuds. The teenager will not allow his mother to spoil his weekend. Accordingly, he chooses to leave.

Carl pulls his heavy jacket to protect himself from the cold. He stuffs the new comic books, which his father bought inside his backpack. In a similar fashion to the previous night, He sneaks out of his room. The teenager goes to sit on the neighbouring house's porch, and he braces himself for a long cold night.

The light on the porch goes on, and the door opens. Carl doesn't immediately react. This house never had an occupant, and so he is afraid. Perhaps, squatters invaded it. When his eyes land on the woman in the doorframe, the boy changes his mind. She looks nothing like a squatter.

"Hello." He hears while she starts to walk toward him.

Carl stares at the woman with dreadlocks and a baby on her hip. Is she his new neighbour? The teenager starts to panic, and quickly, he tries to pack his stuff. Carelessly, he throws everything in the backpack. Left and right, his comic books fall out his bag.

If his mom discovers that he disappears every night, he doesn't want to deal with the consequences. When he finishes filling his bag and grabs his jacket, Carl is eager to run. Unfortunately, a firm hand on his shoulder stops his motion while he takes his first step.

...

...

...

When Michonne walks to her porch, she expects to find a hurt animal. The frame, which moves in the dark, belongs to a human. Concerned with her predicament, Michonne grabs Andre, who lies by her side. Careful, she approaches her porch and switches the light.

"Hello." She calls out for the moving frame.

Her eyes lock on a familiar pair of blue irises. For a minute, the surprise disorients the young woman. Michonne doesn't say a word nor moves a muscle. Her eyes fixed on the boy, who sits on her new porch, many questions collide in her mind. The familiarity of his eyes fascinates her. When a comic hits the floor, the young woman only starts to react. The sudden noise arouses her sense.

Michonne watches the teenager packs his stuff. For a second, she can't decide what to do. It may be a trap. Although, Rick told nothing would happen for seven days. The young woman continues to look at the young boy, and his panic resonates with her.

Michonne senses so much fear, and it incites her next actions. When he tries to run by her, she stops him by holding his shoulder. The young boy looks back at her, and the fear in his eyes shocks her. Due to her recent personal experience, Michonne understands fear. Accordingly, she wants to help.

"You don't have to leave." Her statement holds his attention.

When she is sure he will not run, she releases her grip on his shoulder.

Carl doesn't answer, but he stays glue on the porch. He looks at the woman, and he tries to decide what to do. The teenager glances at the window of his parents' room and the light is on. Shane hasn't left his home. Indecisive, he focuses on Michonne.

With the child on her hips, the young woman has a gentle presence. Carl finds the concern in her eyes strange. He is out at three o'clock in the morning, and it should be self-explanatory how much interest his parents show.

Michonne misinterprets his silence, and she steps away from him. She doesn't wish to overwhelm the child. If he is afraid, she doesn't want to add to his distress. She allows him a breathing room.

"You don't have to leave." Tentatively, she insists.

Carl answers with an intense stare. The boy tries to appraise her. The suspicious look doesn't offend Michonne. Softly, she smiles at Carl. Her smile is warm and almost contagious to the boy. The warmness of her smile comforts the teenager, and Carl ceases to stare at her.

"If the porch is your spot, we won't bother you." Michonne continues to soothe the teenager, and the gentleness facilitates the process.

Slowly, she steps away to prove the sincerity of her words. The young woman doesn't want to corner Carl or startle him. He may be a homeless kid, or he may be running away from a dangerous situation. It doesn't matter to Michonne. If he thinks her porch is a safe place, she will not take his haven.

Michonne returns into the home, and she switches every porch light. Through her window, she peers at him. When Carl sits back on the porch parquet, relief fills her. For a few minutes, she stands at her window and keeps an eye on him. When she assures that he won't leave, she goes to put Andre to bed.

...

...

...

Carl continues to stare at the door, which closed a few minutes ago. He tries to read his comic, but his eyes stray to the door. For multiple reasons, the new neighbour fascinates him. However, the concern in her eyes warms his heart. It is the reason why he didn't leave.

He knows he isn't supposed to approach strangers nor trespass on their porch. His father stresses the danger, which strangers represent. How dangerous can she be if she is concerned for him? She had a child, and he didn't talk to her. It isn't dangerous, and he needs to wait until his mother finishes.

Carl glances at his home, and he doesn't hear the door, which opens. Suddenly, a warm blanket recovers his shivering body. He looks up to find warm brown eyes. He inhales, and she smells good. A very soft perfume, he notices that everything about her as a touch of softness. He assumes it is because she is a mother. His mother also had the distinct mother touch.

Carl wants to reject the warm blanket. Rick told him never to take anything from a stranger, and so it starts a dilemma. The blanket is so warm.

For Carl, Michonne is kind, or to be accurate her eyes are kind. Consequently, he adjusts the warm blanket around his body. He doesn't dare to speak to her. Personal experience renders the child suspicious of adults. However, he tries to smile as a grateful gesture. Rick raised his son to be the southern gentleman, who he ceased to be.

Michonne expects nothing from the kid, but his smile soothes her. After her awful night, she needed to see something genuine. She doesn't want to scare Carl, which is why she doesn't invite him. After he wraps the blanket around him, she puts a trail down with a sandwich and warm milk. She looks at him pointedly, and he shakes his head as an answer.

"Dad says it's dangerous to take things from a stranger. Particularly food and drinks, they may contain drugs, but thank you, ma'am." The sound of the voice of his voice surprises her.

Michonne doesn't know what to say, and she sits down opposite to him. They both share the space in silence, and she picks the comic, which he dropped from the floor.

"I think this manga belongs to you. I don't have this volume yet." She pushes it toward Carl while he stares at her.

"You know what manga are?" Curiosity makes him break the rules.

There is a certain excitement. A few people make the rightful difference between manga and comics. His genuine surprise makes Michonne laugh.

"I have a thousand of them." She replies and readjusts his blanket when he threatens to fall from his shoulder.

"A thousand?" Envious, he whispers.

"Not a thousand maybe close to a hundred, but a thousand sound better." She corrects herself, and her statement wins her another genuine smile.

"I have fifty-five." He replies with a voice, which is barely audible.

After that statement, silence falls back on the pair. Carl continues to glance at his parents' windows. Michonne follows his eyes, and she faces the windows. She doesn't mention it, and he is thankful. For thirty minutes, they are each other silent companion until the light goes off into Lori's room.

Carl packs his bag, and he folds the blanket in four. The teenager puts down the blanket. He hesitates to a second, and Michonne doesn't press him. For a minute, he thinks about the appropriate words and settles for the simple one.

"Thank you, ma'am." For the first time during the night, his voice is loud.

Michonne nods and she stands from her spot.

"If you ever need the porch, don't hesitate." She adds for good measure.

Michonne has the impression the boy will often need her porch. She walks toward her door, but she can't open it with the blanket in her hands. Carl runs back and helps her.

"Here." He drops the comic on the blanket.

Michonne doesn't question him. She knows it is his subtle way to accept her offers. He will have to return for his comic.

"My name is Michonne." She tells him, and so she ceases to be a stranger.

Carl nods, but he doesn't reply with his name. Perhaps, when he returns for his comic, he will tell her. The boy crosses the road and enters his home.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 8 p.m**

After his last conversation with Michonne, Rick's mind is boiling. He needs an answer to a specific question, and he knows where to find it. However, he has a single problem, Shane Walsh. His wife's paramour has decided to watch each of his movements.

For the last hours, his car has trailed Rick's one. Since he left his office, the grey pick-up has followed him. The other detective seems to believe his partner lacks the necessary police skills. Although, Rick would think the same of a man, who is unaware of his wife liaison. The car is not ostentatious, but it is hard to fool a paranoid man. After the third turn, Rick noticed the tail.

Any other day, he will enjoy the cat and mouse game. However, he doesn't have the time to entertain Shane's antics. Michonne is right about a thing. No one steals the books and runs. If anyone steals the books, they intend to overtake the organisation. It means chaos and potential danger for his organisation. How did an embezzlement fester to such extent?

Rick slows his car, and he is closer to his target. However, he can't work while Shane watches over his shoulder. Rick works the problem at every angle, and his partner needs a distraction. He knows Shane may check his finances, but it is a maze. From illegal to legal funds, it is an errand fool. Rick's launders most of his money through company shares. Anyone can invest in a company shares and become successful. Accordingly, Detective Rick Grimes invested in the right startup, and he continues to invest in small businesses. If Shane digs deeper into his life, he will only become more confused. Rick spent ten years to build his empire, and the foundations are solid. However, he has a living and breathing weakness. Michonne's code name isn't the queen for a reason. Accidentally, she has become the weakness of his empire. If Shane digs into Michonne's life, he will unavoidably dig Rick's dirt. Unfortunately, the detective started to search into Michonne's life, which is the reason why Rick moved her across his home. It is risky but such a gross mistake that Shane will miss it. If Shane notices Rick's deliberate mistake, Lori will distract him. Shane will be too busy trying to hide his secret. Sneaking into another man house is harder when he lives next door. He intends to drive his partner mad, and his wife Lori will help in the process.

However, it is a long-term plan. Now, Rick has seven days, and he has to dodge an obsessive partner. The young man takes another turn, and he continues to lead Shane further from the high way. When you mess with the wrong people, there is an expensive price to pay. Rick notices a second vehicle coming on his left, and a third one, which perfectly aligns with Shane's car. The mobster continues to drive until a location, which is close to his next location. If he wants his search for Mike's girlfriend to progress, he can't miss the appointment.

Abruptly, Rick stops in the middle of an empty back road, and he pretends to be lost. He takes his phone out and pretends to place a call.

...

...

...

When Rick stops, Shane must slow down. He doesn't want to lose his prey. The road is narrow, and with the exception of Rick's car, the road is almost empty. A motorcycle speeds and cuts his path. The young detective curse and he is quick enough to avoid an accident.

After his abrupt stop, Shane is ready to restart his engine. He looks around, and Rick has disappeared. He wants to reverse, but he can move. Another car blocks his exit.

"Hey, fucker" The shout calls his attention.

It is the man on the motorcycle. He looks like a redneck, and Shane searches his glove box.

"Police." He shouts from inside the car while he looks for his badge.

"Then we've got the right fucker." The other man answers.

Shane senses the trouble, and he tries to pull his service weapon. However, it is a futile task. Before he can reach for his gun, a car collides with his car on the passenger side. The impact is powerful, and it crushes half of the detective car. Miraculously, Shane is safe.

"Fuck." He shouts, and he tries to leave his car.

The driver side opens, and an arm grabs the collar of his shirt. He tries to defend himself, but his assailant effortlessly drags him to the ground. The man is huge, and Shane can do nothing.

"What is going on?" Panicked, he shouts.

"We have a message." The redneck bends and grabs Shane's chin.

He pulls an arrow from his back and punctures Shane's knee. The detective cries in pain.

"Now, you can't run, and you're going to listen." Slowly, he pulls out the arrow.

Shane cries until his lungs lack of air. He tries to breathe, but a part of the arrow breaks in his knee joint.

"So I was sayin before you start bitching." The redneck continues his little tirade.

Shane tries to crawl away, but the huge guy, who is fast for his size, drags him back.

"The other leg?" He questions the redneck.

The other man shrugs, and in a second, Shane experiences agony. His tibia cracks under the weight of the huge man, who steps on it.

"So I was saying." The redneck adds, annoyed by Shane's whimper.

"We have a message from the saviors." He stands and pulls a gun from his pants' waistband.

"Please..." Shane begs.

"Stay away from Negan's business." He punctuates his sentence with a bullet shot into Shane's thigh.

Due to the pain and the adrenaline, Shane loses his consciousness.

..

...

...

"That was the message's right, Tyrese?" Daryl asks unsure of the last statement.

He bends and grabs Shane's arms. Tyrese grabs the legs. They carelessly throw the detective in their car.

"The delivery was a bit dramatic, and the torture could be avoided." Tyrese answers while he starts the car.

"Anyway, Rick said we should drop him to the closest hospital. Waste of effort." Daryl complains.

"Well, why don't you personally tell it to the boss? You should have told him his plan wasn't brilliant." Tyrese counters and drives away.

When they reach a major hospital, they throw Shane's body at the emergency door, and they make sure the police badge is visible. He needs to leave, or Rick will make them pay for causing the failure of his plan. Rick needs Negan busy, and there is no better way to do so than to make him a police target. As the saying goes two birds with one stone.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 9 p.m**

Rick reaches his location, and quickly, he finds his target. He leaves his car and enters the biker's bar. The man stands out with his mullet and proper clothes. Nonchalantly, Rick strolls into the bar and sits opposite to the savior soldier.

If he doesn't mistake, Eugene is the name of the guy. Although, he doesn't care. Rick only wants to know what the saviors' books are, and how Mike's girlfriend stole it.

"Torture then you talk or just talk." He says as a way of introduction while he pulls out his cigarette.

"Who are you?" Eugene stutters.

"A man on a seven days schedules." Rick raises a hand to call for a waiter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the reviews. I know the wait was long, but I was switching from obstetric to pediatric department. It was a busy month also the world cup. I started another Richonne fic, but** **I'm back with a long update.**

 **Please, review**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

* * *

 **Chapter VII: Act of mercy on a Sunday**.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 9 p.m.**

…

…

…

Rick reaches the location, which is some little local bikers' bar. He leaves his car and enters the bar. With a quick glance around the room, he finds his target, and he moves deeper into the smoky room. The man stands out with his mullet and proper clothes, and Rick has to swallow a laugh after a glance at him. Nonchalantly, Rick strolls into the bar and sits opposite to the savior soldier. The man hesitates for a second, and he curiously watches Rick's movements.

The young detective checks the entire room, and no one appears to care for the strange pair, which they form. Isolated in the farthest corner of the bar, there is a cluster of saviors. Although, Rick can manage such a little number. A huge amount of smoke complicates the task of observing potential foes. It is a perfect environment for what he intends to do. If he doesn't mistaken, Eugene is the name of the guy. Although, he doesn't care for such trivial detail. Rick only wants to know what the saviors' books are, and how Mike's girlfriend stole it.

"Torture then you talk or just talk." He says as a way of introduction while he pulls out his cigarette box from his shirt pocket.

His voice has a strange neutrality, but his emotions aren't the steadiest. A mild rise of his conscience distracts Rick, and his thoughts are louder. Shane as shitty as he is has been a steady constant in the mobster life. Another pillar of his old life, which he had to destroy. Very few parts of him have remained intact through the years. Consequently, the earlier event has left a bitter aftertaste and a sort of agitation.

The loud country music covers the detail and tone hidden into Rick's voice. The young detective counts on nicotine to take off the edges of a complicated night. He drags the cigarette smoke and blows his smoke at Eugene's face. It is a careful way to taunt the savior and to establish how violent the man may become. From the controlled reaction of Eugene, Rick has nothing to fear from the young man.

"Who are you?" Eugene stutters.

"A man on a seven days schedules." Rick raises a hand to call for a waiter.

For a minute, he ignores the baffled man, which faces him. Rick orders the strongest drink on the menu, and he wants to drain his conscience. He waits for the waiter to leave so he can focus on the task ahead. However, his state of mind will complicate the task.

"It isn't a logical answer to my question. Your name would make more sense." The other man replies with an almost petulant tone.

For a second, Rick considers his options, and his patience starts to run thin. After Shane's antics, he doesn't want to deal with another infuriating idiot. He pinches his nose bridge, and he attempts to silence his most violent impulsion. With a swing, he empties his glass of scotch. It is a matter of hours, and eventually, he will have to deal with a sort of remaining conscious. He knew it when he chose to implement his plan on Shane, but now he needs his head on the game.

..

..

...

….

Rick grabs a fork, which lies abandon the table that needs serious cleaning after the previous patron. With his free hand, he immobilizes one of Eugene's hand. Exhausted by the night, the detective sighs. His mind begs for a reason to snap, and every of Eugene's antics is an incentive.

"So you want some logic." He chuckles, and his hold on Eugene's hand is stronger.

Bruises cover the savior's skin. He winces, but Rick continues to be unbothered. He drags the fork's teeth along the man's shivering skin. With a look filled with viciousness, he intimidates Eugene. Slowly the pressure on the fork on the savior's skin increases and the metal teeth threaten to break the fragile skin beneath.

"The thang is that there is a logical way to deal with dumbass like you." He punctuates his statement with a twist on the fork, and it sinks in the other man's hand.

Eugene hurls his pain, and Rick continues to twist the metal deeper into the hand. The whimpers and cries startle the crowd in the bar, and eyes stare at Rick. The young detective continues to pierce Eugene's hand with his fork, and he doesn't stop when a hand grip his shoulder. The extra attention doesn't bother him.

When the grip on his shoulder tightens, Rick sighs in depreciation. For a second, he stops his act of torture. Nonchalantly, the young man turns to face the man, who touches him. It is a lanky man with a weird moustache, and Rick doesn't care enough to notice more on the man's physical appearance. He must be one of savior, who he noticed beforehand. With another glance, the detective finishes his assessment of the newcomer.

"That's one of our men." He points at Eugene and Rick's expression is close to a verbalized should I care.

The young detective glances back at Eugene, and he scoffs. Defiantly, Rick crosses his arms on his chest, and his stern expression summarizes his uncaring attitude.

"You walk in the room and act as if you've got the balls to fuck the bitch." The man punctuates his statement with a laugh.

A tilt of his head toward Eugene stabbed hand follows the uninteresting statement. As an answer to the man statement, Rick laughs, but his laugh lacks humour. It is a silent cry of hysteria. The detective presses on the fork down until it comes out on the palmar side of the hand. Satisfied with his handy work, he exhales. Blue eyes haven't stopped staring at the newcomer. The young detective fully turns, and his back faces a terrified Eugene.

..

...

...

...

"Is he your lil boyfriend or somethang? Does it bother you that he has fun with other men?" Rick questions while he pulls out a new cigarette after discarding the previous one.

Arrogance drips from his actions and words. It appears like a tactical mistake in a room full of adversaries, but he can't bring himself to care. A side effect of a growing guilty conscience. He expected the backlash of his attack on Shane, but he thought it would hit him hours later. His guilty conscience chooses the wrong time to be vocal, and it makes him a reckless man.

Completely uncaring of the other man's reaction, Rick inhales more of the warm smoke of his cigarette. He doesn't expect a verbal answer to his question, and he wants a sort of physical violence as a response to his provocation. When the other man raises his fist, Rick's reaction is immediate. It is quick and lethal. After another empty laugh, he drags another smoke out of his cigarette.

"Fuck." the savior cries out when Rick's foot collide with his kneecap.

He buckles on his unsteady knee and falls down. Rick doesn't move from his spot, and he looks around questioning the sanity of the next man ready to risk it. The crowd has ceased to look in his direction, and they have returned to their drinking and conversation. Rick continues to drag the last of his cigarette, and he stares at the man, who can't recover from a broken patella. The young detective raises his hand to attract a waiter, and he asks for a second scotch.

With the same nonchalance, which characterized his entrance in this bar, Rick stands from his chair. He joins his victim, who is helpless on the floor. The detective grabs the young man's face and kneels next to him. From his waistband, he pulls a colt and places it on the savior's chest. He presses the canon against the agitated beating heart of the tall man, and he runs it up to the man's neck.

"We've already established that you don't mind your business, and so what's your name?" With a bored tone used by a news anchor that announces the saving of a cat, Rick questions the man on the ground.

He moves his gun from the neck to the temple and unlocks the safety for good measure. Rick inhales, and he tries to reign on his temper. He is going off script, but he may as well get rid of the edges.

"Do I look like a virtuous man? I ask for a name and not girlish whimpers." Rick groans impatient after the man takes a few seconds to answer.

"Simon." The other man spat while Rick removes the gun from his temples.

The young detective slides it back to the other man's chest. He looks back to check on an agitated Eugene, and he waves to him to catch his attention. A second later, he refocuses on Simon. Rick heavily sighs, and he presses the colt canon tighter on Simon's chest.

"I don't think you want to take a bullet for the shit over there, and I don't want to waste one on a noisy dumbass like you." Lazily, he drawls.

"Here a smart thang I want you to do, and so listen well." He continues to speak with the same bored tone.

"When I'm done with the smarty pant over here, you can run to whomever you wanted to impress with your lil stunt, and then you will tell him that Shane Walsh's man delivered a message." He pats the other man's cheek at the end of his statement.

..

...

...

..

Rick returns to the table, where Eugene starts to break into panicked tears. He pulls up another cigarette and attempts to relax. Once again, nicotine fails to have the same soothing effect, which it always has on his nerves.

"Still want to sound smart, Einstein?" Rick questions while he takes the scotch tumbler, which the waiter refilled.

"What do you want?" Eugene fails not to choke on his words.

With a certain disgust, Rick glares at the young man. Don't they have an enrollment protocol in the saviors? Are they all a bunch of coward who gets off by sending a dead body to frighten woman? The thought of Michonne appears to appease Rick, and he remembers to refocuses on his actual quest. He is on a seven days schedule, and he can't antagonize more people than needed.

He inhales and grabs Eugene's collar to drag him closer. He doesn't want the entire room aware of the matter of his interest. The eyes are purposely avoiding contact with him because he took down one of the alpha leaders in the room, but they haven't stopped staring.

"The books, tell me more about them." He answers and releases Eugene's collar.

For a minute, Eugene hesitates, and Rick's fingers impatiently graze the fork, which was previously in the Savior's hands. It is enough of an incentive. Eugene closes his eyes, and he tries to retrieve his calm. However, with Rick's piercing eyes on him, it is a futile attempt.

"We lost them." Eugene shares an information known by the entire mob world, and Rick cocks an eyebrow in warning.

Eugene moistens his lips, and he swallows air because his mouth is dry. With the same trembling voice, he chooses to reveal what he knows.

"The book is a necklace with an encryption, and the boss gave it to his girlfriend. Then a man named Mike Anthony stole it, and he stole more than the books. Millions of dollars but the boss doesn't care for the money…" The words rapidly pour out of his mouth, and it is hard to stop the cascade.

Due to panic, He adds more detail than needed, and Rick has to filter the information.

"And? Heard you found the bastard." Rick has to redirect the conversation because Eugene has started to share trivial information.

"Andrea, the boss' girl led us to the accountant. It was her way to repay for her failure to keep the necklace safe, but it was too late when we found him. He no longer had the necklace. He confirmed that he gave the necklace to his girl. We found his mobile phone, and there were some text messages, which he sent before we found him. He was begging her to help him. He talked about love and other things. Then he mentioned a necklace with sentimental value. Michonne that is the girl and the boss is after her." Eugene stutters at every word, but Rick catches everything.

"And the girlfriend?" Risk asks.

The detective doesn't buy into the woman innocence. Believing this non-cohesive story will mean assume Michonne lied to him, and it isn't an impossible option. However, there is no ounce of doubt, and it feels abnormal that he trusts her when the core of his character is paranoia.

"Andrea?" Eugene questions.

The way, which the savior says the woman's name, is different. Rick notices that details and he wonders what can be the woman appeals if every man around her as to carry a torch.

"That is not enough. What about Andrea?" Rick presses, and there is another moment of hesitation in the conversation.

"Well, there wasn't much to say about her. She fucked the accountant but it was because Negan wanted to know about the money. She lost the necklace and she panicked. She ran away before the boss could kill her, and then she sent a message to give in Mike's location."

"What was her full name?" Rick continues to dig for information, which matters.

Any doubt he had about the culprit disappears. Andrea played the men around her. She manipulated her crowd of suitors and realized a perfect crime. First, Negan was too busy chasing after the stolen money, and so he didn't expect the book safe keeper to rob him. Second, he became too preoccupied with the books to stop and think of the culprit. Andrea pointed him in a direction, and he fell for the obvious culprit.

Are all these men so pussy stroke than they can't see the obvious? Rick questions himself, and a thought about his past actions is an answer enough. If he can't act out of character over Michonne, no other man is immune to such power. A glance at Eugene and the reverence in his voice while talks about Andrea, Rick can see how strong her effect on them was. Rick doesn't understand the appeal, and he saw her a few time at Mike's arm. She is a beautiful blonde woman, but they are blonde women in every corner of the city.

"Andrea Blake." Eugene offers

"You don't happen to have a picture of her?"

"She is the boss' girl." He answers defensively and confirms Rick's doubt.

"What did I say about being smart? I don't care about your creepy fantasy nor report to your boss. Although to me, you sound like a pervert, who had a crush on her. Simon will love to tell more to your boss." Rick counters.

"Here." Eugene pushes his phone forward.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 10: 45 p.m.**

…

…

…

Three hours later, Rick hasn't done anything with the information, which Eugene gave him. Apart from learning that the books were a necklace with an encoded inscription, he wasted his effort on those saviors. He is still emotionally unhinged, and it is the reason he doesn't want to leave the office. Although, his mind has decided that thought of Michonne would help. However, Rick promised the young woman that he will stick to the arrangement, and he can deal with a guilty conscience. Consequently, he will do his part of the arrangement and solve her trouble with the saviors.

Andrea Blake is a fake identity, and there is no record of her. She has no bank accounts, phone number, and known address. Inexistent family or any traceable past and much like it was with Mike, he couldn't find such person. As for now, Rick's search leads to nowhere but a new dead end. The last thing Rick wants to do is police work, but it appears the affair will require his detective abilities. Fortunately, he is good at it. If he has seven days, he may need to play on both sides of his life.

Rick pulls out his phone, and he stares at the picture of Andrea, which he confiscated from Eugene. The young detective decides to run a facial recognition, and this is why he continues to be a detective. Police's resources speed the process of tracking people. Although, he would like to keep this quiet, and it is the time to use the mob connection and money.

Rick runs through his phone, and he tries to retrieve the number, which he needs. In a second, he has the right man for the job, Glenn Rhee. The man works for the police IT department, and with his growing family, he needs the money. Occasionally, he tasks a bribe from Rick not to report what the mobster asks him to do. The other man doesn't care much because he knows the homicide detectives and their shenanigans. Rick sends a text with Andrea's picture, and he waits for the answer.

"Grimes?" a familiar voice calls for him, and he has to look away from his computer.

The email with the needed information on Andrea arrives, and the screen of Rick's computer lights up. Distracted by the newcomer, the detective ignores the blipping sound.

"Yeah…" Nonchalantly, he turns to face his colleague who approaches him.

From the glance at the man's expression, Rick can predict the topic of conversation. Consequently, he reminds himself to act as if he is obvious to the situation. It is time to bring officer friendly to the surface and allow him to handle the emotional farce, which he is about to enact. Subtly, he inhales and dips into the initial guilt that he felt concerning his part on Shane's attack.

"What are you doing here?" The other detective questions and he hesitates on the way to approach the conversation.

Rick continues to act as if he ignores Shane's predicament. No one has informed him about Shane's whereabouts, but there are a few missed calls on his phone. It is safe to assume that this conversation will brush the topic. For a second, the detective turns to read the email, and his eyes catch the first line. Andrea Harrison instead of Andrea Blake. The young woman happens to be part of the list of missing person. Silently, Rick curses because he has no intention to deal with Merle Dixon. He continues to read, and Three years ago, Andrea's sister reported her disappearance. Now, Rick is warry, and he mumbles curses.

Rick files the information about the woman's sister in the back of his mind. However, the voice of the second detective interrupts him, and Rick focuses his attention on his colleague. He continues to pretend. Strangely, he never had to juggle so much between his lives. Tonight, he has switched between personas more than he did in months. One minute, he is hurting a man, and the next minute, he has to care for the man, who he planned the attack. It's no wonder that his conscience decides to arise.

…

…

…

"The same thing that I do every Sunday. We've got a big case… Is everything okay, Martinez?" He starts to speak and stops in reaction to the concerned expression worn by his colleague.

Rick silently congratulates himself for the intonation of his voice. Concern has slowly overlapped the arrogant nonchalance. The blue of his eyes has become duller, and Martinez hesitates to answer. Rick watches as the other man who worries about his emotions, and he wants to shout spit it. However, he strengthens his acting prowess with a strong body language. He rubs his hand on his face and displays more anxiety.

"You don't know right? When the call came, you weren't here, and I think they call your place." Martinez beats around the bush, and Rick has to will every ounce of patience in him.

"Know about what?" With a subtle choice of tone, he presses to show serious concern rather than impatience.

"Walsh and…" Detective Martinez ultimately finds the courage to announce the news, which results from Rick's connivance.

However, Rick interrupts him for good measure. He continues to exaggerate his act of ignorance. He starts to push a new narrative in the process.

"Not again, did Dixon …" Rick adds and he tries to redirect blame for safety purpose.

If they don't take the Negan bait, Merle Dixon may join the possible suspect. Rick purposely sent Daryl, and the entire police department knows about Merle's biker brother. After their public argument, the older detective will be a credible suspect in Shane's assault. The mobster likes to cover his bases. Every plan has a backup, and now more than ever he needs those backup plans.

Mike dragged Michonne down a complicated path, and Rick is willing to risk everything for Michonne. Although, he is cautious about the way to approach the matter. The young woman will not die on his watch, but he will also not lose everything in the process.

"Oh no… Some people attacked Walsh and shot him in the thigh and an arrow in the knee." There is a moment of hesitation when Martinez considers what Rick implied about Merle, but he shakes the thought away.

In this department, He knows the man better than anyone else does. Dixon is capable of reckless acts, but Martinez knows about it beforehand.

"Where? Fuck… Is he okay?" Rick's voice breaks on the right words, and the crocodile tears make his eyes glisten.

It is the apogee of the farce. In a matter of seconds, he is rushing out of the room, but Martinez is quick enough to stop him. He grabs Rick by the forearm, and he keeps him in place.

"Yes, he is stable and they took the bullet out of his thigh. Atlanta teaching hospital room number 35 and surgery ward." He answers Rick's erratic questions.

….

….

….

"Hey, Martinez can you check on an Andrea Harrison for me," Rick asks while he continues to push the narrative of a panicked friend.

The detective remembers that Martinez is Merle's partner. He will rather deal with the younger detective than Dixon.

"Why?" The other detective questions while an aghast expression overtakes his features.

Rick takes note of it, and he knows that he may not like what he will hear about Andrea. For a second, he cuts the act of the worried friend, but he continues to pack his stuff. Will he ever catch a break with this entire matter? In the beginning, he just wanted good sex, and now he is almost in love. As if it is punishment enough, he has to play protector and hero.

What is his recompense after all his effort? A broken heart and a warm smile to amend the harm that she causes with her rejection of his love. He can't prevent the sigh, which leaves his lips. In his entire life, he has never been on a losing side of a bargain. However, he gains hardships and a broken heart from the arrangement. The consolation prize is amazing sex, and a smile, which has turned him into an addict.

"She keeps coming up as a suspect on the murder case I'm working on, but it says that she is a missing person." Rick reluctantly answers.

The detective isn't sure if he wants to share such information, but he may need help from the missing person department. He isn't sure about a man like Martinez, and so he doesn't attempt to bribe him. Although, his instinct tells him that the man is as shady as Dixon is. No one stays that long with an asshole without being one. With all of their unresolved case, it will not come as a surprise if the two detectives had ties with a human trafficking ring.

"Well, she can't be a suspect in your case. That is my missing case, and I closed it three years ago. We suspected a death in the line of duty." Confidently, Martinez counters.

The line of duty? Rick's mind starts to race. He needs a drink and a night with Michonne. Clearly, the world is trying to destroy him, and so he may as well die in Michonne's arms. He doesn't want to hear it, but the pieces of evidence are pointing in a direction, which he dislikes. Silently, he curses the existence and death of Mike Anthony.

"You're sure… This woman?" Rick returns to his desk and pulls the picture of Andrea, which he printed.

His mind starts to tingle, and he just wants to break something out of frustration. In what kind of predicament did he land due to that stupid arrangement? From a missing person to another one, frustration may become a constant companion.

"She was an FBI agent in cover who disappeared three years ago." Martinez stutters for a second while he checks on the picture.

The mention of FBI pushes Rick close to the edges. Did he stumble into a government complot? Andrea Harrison is far from dead because he saw her months ago. She was breathing and giggling while she was in Mike's arm. Rick pinches his nose, and he didn't need more reason to agree with Michonne. Whatever this is, they are trying to overtake the Saviors.

"I hardly forget a pretty face." Martinez' voice brings Rick out of his thought.

"Alright, I will head to the hospital to check on Shane." He says as an excuse to leave.

The young man needs fresh air.

* * *

 **Sunday approximately 11: 25 p.m.**

 **..**

 **..**

 **..**

"Look who is here?" Rick drawls and he enters the room, where another of his victim lies.

The young man tries to avert his eyes from Shane unconscious body. This Sunday is endless, and he needs a break. Reluctantly, he focuses on the tiers person in the room. His dear wife, Lori sits by Shane's side, and she releases the unconscious man's hand. Rick notices, but he doesn't care enough to mention it. He knew she will come to her lover bedside, but so late at night, it surprises him.

"Lori…" he says as a form of greeting, but it also stands as a taunting question.

Rick continues to avoid Shane. His conscience continues to remind him that this is the oldest friend, which he had in his life. Although, his reason easily silence the sentimentalism. With a quick reminder of Michonne and her predicament, Rick justifies his assault of a best friend.

"Someone had to be here with him while you were god know where." Defensively, Lori answers.

She hasn't forgotten about their last conversation, and she fears that the situation may reveal her deceit. Rick ignores her while he leans against the furthest wall from the bed. As long as he stands in this room, he will feel guilty. After what he learns tonight, he just wants to seek peace. He just wants to seek Michonne. However, he doesn't want to deal with rejection. As for now, he experiences a sort of fragility. Embarrass by his growing weakness, Rick chastises his greedy heart.

"I guess the Atlanta police department lacks personnel, and you were the only one who could watch him. Or is it another thang?" Rick decides to distract himself by antagonizing his wife, and so he calls her lies out.

"Do you hear yourself? Shane is part of the family." Lori replies with a strong indignation in her voice.

Rick rolls his eyes, and he bites his tongue to stop the snarky answer, which he mind form. However, he really wants to know how riding his dick makes her family. The detective exhales, and he moves away from the wall.

"I wished I could hear myself, but you shout more than you speak." Rick answers.

Ultimately, he closes the distance left between him and Shane. He refuses to act like a mobster who committed his first murder, and so he silences his conscience. Spending times with Michonne continues to affect his emotions if now he has to experience sympathy for the people he harms. He stars at Shane to force himself to become desensitized

"What is wrong with you? Are you still going on about that fantasy of me cheating? As far as I know, you have a girl name princess somewhere. " Lori spits with fury.

Rick averts his eyes from the unconscious Shane, and he glares at Lori. It doesn't take a minute for Lori to recognize the man with who she argued the other night. Nonchalantly, Rick drags a chair by Shane's bed, and purposely he faces Lori. It is a silent way to defy her, and he will wait for her to talk about Michonne again. He crosses his arm and cocks an eyebrow. Clearly, people want to ignore his warning.

"Hey, Shane?" Rick says when Lori doesn't pursue her rant.

"They put him in an artificial coma to help with the recovery. He was frantic when he emerged." She supplies for her husband, and Rick chooses to ignore her.

…

…

…

…

After minutes of silence, Rick takes notice of the time. It is almost midnight, and a question arises in his mind. If they are both at the hospital in this ungodly hour, who is caring for their son? Rick forgets about his pride, and he decides to start a conversation with his wife.

"And Carl?" he questions because he doesn't believe Lori will leave their son unsupervised.

She probably hired a last minute babysitter. Michonne does the same… He stops his thought because he can't control his mind. He doesn't know when she became the standard of everything and the pillar of his thoughts. He can't constantly compare every woman to her. How is he supposed to move on when he has started to turn her into a model of perfection? However, he doesn't matter if he doesn't want to move on when he promised her to cease his pursuit of her.

"Carl is old enough to be on his own." With that sentence, Lori destroys one of the few good beliefs, which Rick held about her.

Rick frowns and he glances at the watch. It is midnight in a few minutes, and He doesn't want to think about his son alone in their home. In truth, the suburb is safe, but reason will not silence his anxiety as a worried father. What will happen if his son is sick and alone?

"Carl is twelve, which is not old enough to be alone at night. I will head home." For the first time, his nonchalance disappears to show through concern.

Rick's concern for his son grows significantly. After meeting Negan at the baseball stadium, he decided to keep a closer watch on Carl. Accordingly, he decides to forget about his night plan. It is a premiere, but he chooses to prioritize his son over the business. Although, he always believed that he could lean on Lori when it came to taking care of their son. The detective stands from the chair and starts to walk out of the room.

"Okay..." Lori rolls her eyes at his hypocrisy, and she is sure that he doesn't intend to leave Shane side.

The young woman believes that he wants her to rot away while she takes care of his son. Once done here, he will probably run to the infamous princess. She can fathom the thought that he will care more for his son than he does for his personal carnal need. Perhaps, she projects her feeling on Rick. If he believes she will take the bait, Rick Grimes must have mistaken her with an idiot. He will not run to another woman as long as she breathes. When her husband opens the door to leave, Lori panics.

"I'm ready to leave too." Quickly, she stands and joins him.

"Don't bother and continue to watch over your family." With an unfazed tone, he tells her and walks out of the room.

"Rick?" Lori runs after him and enters his car.

The ride is awkwardly silent, and Rick refuses to lower himself at her level. Lori tries to bait him into another argument, and he wonders what she is trying to achieve. However, he doesn't care about her aim. Through the entire ride, he continues to ignore her. When they reach their home, Rick rushes upstairs and enters his son's room.

The boy is asleep, and opened comic books are spread on his bed sheet. The tension, which tugs at Rick's heart, disappears. After clearing the bed, he stares at his son for many minutes. He removes the hair, which disturbs the teenager in his sleep. Rick doesn't remember the last time when he has watched his son sleep. He can't remember when was the last time when his fatherly duty didn't consist of spending money.

An hour later, he hasn't left Carl's room, and he is calmer than when he entered the room. Perhaps, He should consider making more time for his son. His mind hasn't drifted toward Michonne, and all the other turmoil seems inexistent. Although, he doesn't want his life to leak into Carl's one. An hour is enough to start a dilemma and have regrets.

"Love you, son." He says after a few minutes when his anxiety disappears.

Rick loves his son, and he wished to be able to prove it. As many emotional aspects of him, he no longer knows how to act as a father. Months prior to Michonne, he no longer remembered how to be a lover. Perhaps, it is slowly coming back to him. Carl is completely safe in his bed. Rick leans to kiss his son's forehead, and he leaves the room.

….

…

…

The young man makes his way to his conjugal room. After tonight, he doesn't have the energy to return to the mansion. When he opens the door, he finds dimed lights. It takes an entire minute until he registers what is going on. He glances at his bed, and his wife lies naked in the middle of dark silk sheets. The detective looks around in search of a proof that he may be hallucinating.

Rick stares at Lori, and he wonders when he gave her any sort of indication that he was interested to fill Shane vacancy. He ignored her the entire ride. Was she trying to infuriate him because she hoped for angry sex? The young detective withholds a laugh, and he walks deeper into the room. Unfazed by the view, he removes his shirt, and he tries to retrieve a comfortable shirt in his closet.

Lori seductively smiles after she misunderstands his action. She slides out of the bed and closes the distance between them. The young woman presses her naked body to Rick's one.

"I know you missed us." She whispers after pressing her lips to his neck.

If Rick doubted the existence of his conscience, the whining in his brain about infidelity takes away any doubt. How ironical, his loyalty lies with another woman. Every time, he continuous to surprise himself with how deep he has fallen for a woman, who claims to hate him. In the arm of his wife, who has started to unbuckle his belt, Rick's mind chooses to think about Michonne.

The detective removes Lori's hand from his belt, and he moves away from her hold. He glances at the beautiful naked woman, and he never had any scruple before tonight. It never mattered that she had a liaison with his best friend, and he didn't cease to find her sexually arousing. Before Michonne, he would have taken the offer, and it would be another way to distract his bored mind. However, he can hardly kiss Lori tonight. His eyes drift toward the house across the road, and he knows that he doesn't want to spend a minute more in this room.

"If you need another retreat, please go for it. I'm good," Rick says while he picks his shirt from the floor and leaves a shocked Lori behind.

The young woman only comes out of her stupor a few minutes later and her reaction is to create chaos with an angry shout. After all, tonight Shane is not an option. There is nothing to take the anger away, and so she expresses pure raw anger. She isn't losing her husband to a whore call Princess.

* * *

 **Monday approximately 1: 15 a.m.**

…

…

…

The cracking sound of the door startles her out of her sleep, and she wakes almost panicking. When a half-asleep Michonne starts to search for the light switch, she stumbles and almost falls to the ground. Fortunately, strong arms catch her, and they engulf her in an unexpected hug. The recognition of his warm masculine scent stops the cry, which almost left her lips. Although, she flinches at his touch because she attempts to see his face in the opaque darkness.

"It's just me," Rick whispers against her ear.

He presses his forehead to her, and he takes a deep breath. Ultimately, Michonne relaxes in his arms. The detective presses a kiss on her forehead, and she questions his tenderness. Through the day, she has started to discover the connection between his touch and his emotions. Rick's body language is not obvious. Tenderness may mean hidden anger or a silent demand for affection. His excitement may translate in very slow touch, but Michonne knows to pick the detail. How softly his fingertips caress her back or how he presses his lips to her pulse, the detail tells more than the act.

"Shitty day?" She questions because his fingers have been grazing the hem of her silk pajama short.

Rick hates to verbalize his need, and now she knows that he subtly begs for comfort. Before, she would have never allowed him to find comfort in her arms. It was too intimate and blurred so many lines. Although, she mistakenly gave comfort when her body responded to the request of his touch. Tonight, she hesitates because she acknowledges the emotions behind his touch. Rick presses his lips to her clavicle. The kiss is languid, and he drags his lips along her neck until he recovers her lips with his.

"Somethang, like that," he answers after breaking their kiss.

"Okay?" Michonne chooses to ask the question in another way.

The young woman continues to refuse to verbalize that she cares for him. In a subtle way, she tries to ask Rick in which capacity she can be of help. Does he need a shoulder to cry on as she did yesterday? Should she extend the courtesy and compromise herself? Michonne knows that she has started a selfish relationship. When it is convenient for her, she allows emotional attachment. When Rick requires the same emotional courtesy, she requires that he mind her fragile heart. It is almost as if she asks of him to love her because she will not stand the thought of not basking in his adoration. However, she will withhold her love because she refuses to suffer for a love, which equates chaos.

"Okay…" Rick takes her offer to comfort him.

In a swift motion, he lifts her up and wraps her legs around his waist. In the dark, he manages to find her bed. Carefully, he lays her down and climbs on top of her. His mouth recovers hers and slowly he kisses her lips. Her hands slide under his shirt, and she caresses his back. With every touch and kiss, Michonne appears to take away his frustration. Although, it doesn't appear to be enough. Rick hooks a finger to the waistband of her pajama short, but he hesitates.

He removes his hand for the waistband, and his fingers search for something on the nightstand. The young man finds the lamp and switches it on. Yellow lights illuminate half of the room and brighten the gold undertone of Michonne's skin. Rick's big hand frame her face, but Michonne only feels small when she starts to stare in the yellow reflection of light which disrupts the blue of his irises. She sighs with desperation, but she doesn't break the contact.

"For a night, give in." Rick pleads with her.

Perhaps, it is her turn to indulge his fantasy. Michonne inhales and she removes her hands from his back. One of her hand disappears in his curly mane, and the other hand loosely holds on Rick.

"I guess another amendment just for tonight only." Michonne tries to compromise for her personal sanity.

Her lips recover his plump ones, and she kisses him with the tenderness, which she constantly withholds from him. Rick is unsure but love may have poured through her touch. For a minute, he experiences what it is to be loved by her. It is a slow kiss, which arrests the beating of his heart while it reduces his soul to ashes. It is a consuming peace. When she finishes kissing him, Michonne looks into his eyes. Ultimately, he understands why she refuses to look into his eyes when they fuck. The kind of look that they share presently will turn the most barbaric sexual act into the purest lovemaking.

Michonne rests her head on his chest, where his heartbeat has become the melodious sound of an odd to the love, which she refuses to own. Rick's rest his head on the crown of her head. It allows the soft scent of coconut oil, vanilla, and citrus to lure him out of his zone of comfort. He has a night to experience the woman, which he loves, and he refuses the act to be carnal.

…

…

..

"I hate feeling like this." His voice merely resonates inside the room.

He doesn't know how an open-heart conversation works. Perhaps, he should settle for a good fuck, which will appease his conscience. His fingers graze the waistband of her short, and his knuckles caress the skin between her tank top and her short. Beneath his fingers, her skin responds in a way that he recognizes. It is a comfort, but a conversation is too intimate. They have never reached such level of intimacy, and he doesn't remember such intimacy with another woman.

"Like?" Michonne questions while she grabs his wandering hand and intertwines their fingers.

She promises to indulge him, and she doesn't intend to break her promises. If he can be noble enough to sacrifice her love for her sanity, she will be brave enough to risk her sanity for his love tonight.

" like the villain of the story or you know the same way I feel every time you look at me as if I'm about to murder a puppy." Rick continues when he notices that he has very little choice.

"Will it help if I stop looking at you that way?" Michonne rolls over to face him.

He looks down, and he inhales. Begging for this night was a mistake, and he doesn't know how he will return to emotional starvation after this moment. She looks at him, and there is no wall or barrier. He wonders if she looks at him like this when he is unaware that she watches him. She is too comfortable with the act. It almost feels natural that she looks at him as if she loves him without condition.

"If you did, you wouldn't know how to look at me. Worst, you will cease to look at me." With these brown adoring eyes on him, he wonders if his words continue to be truthful.

However, he knows better than to hold on fantasy. Tonight, she indulges him but he will have to pay the price for her act of mercy. His lover is a cruel goddess, but he has yet to find a reason not to worship her. Rick kisses her out of an impulse, and he needs to have many memories of her loving touch. Tomorrow, he will return to standard arrangement. Empty warmth, which will freeze his heart. Hell must have frozen because Rick Grimes will exchange sex for emotional connection.

"I could try…" She whispers between kisses, but they both know it is a lie.

Michonne will stamp on any sort of emotions, and she will not allow herself to fall for a man, who can crush her heart with mere words. They both sense the need to change the topic. They are sinking too deep, and from some ends, it is harder to return. It is just a night and every transient haven, which she allowed him to seek in her arm.

"Did he give it to you?" Rick grabs the m pendant on her neckless.

"I wouldn't continue to wear it if he did." She replies.

"good." Proudly, he says and punctuates the statement with a kiss.

Now, his lips have become demanding. The laziness has subdued by the passion. His fingers rest on the small of her back possessively, and he kisses her in a manner that bruises her soul. Between each tongue stroke, love and devotion leak out. Her lips are softly pressed to his, and she matches his amount of tenderness. Their moan interrupts the joyous silence, which had fallen in the room after the end of their conversation. Months of emotional restraint abolished for a few hours, and so they give affection in excessive manners.

There is the fear of tomorrow's regrets, but it is not enough to hold them back. Perhaps because such amount of affection needs to be expressed or it consumes the soul. She melts into him, and her lips adore every inch of his neck. Rick has never been on the receiving end of her adoration. His heart is unfamiliar to love, but the sentiment is natural with Michonne. Although he is free of most restraint, the young man resists the impulse to tell her that he loves her.

Rick promised Michonne that he would be her heart keeper. Although, he has to protect her from him. If he tells her that he loves her now when she is so in touch with her feeling, it will be manipulation. He will conquer what little resistance, she has. Consequently, he recovers her mouth to censure him. If he can vocalize his love, he will express it with deep kisses, which will torment her soul in his absence. Therefore, he kisses her to a point where she only equates a kiss to Rick Grimes. They continue making out like teenagers, who learn their first act of affection. Michonne falls asleep with her lips press to Rick's one.

"I love you." Ultimately, he whispers the forbidden words, and he feels so hollow at the thought of tomorrow.

He will continue to love her, but she will continue to just fuck him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the review.**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

 **The chapter was too long, and I had to chop it in two at the most random place.**

 **Please, review.**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII: Monday's madness (PART I).**

* * *

 **Three years ago**

 **:**

 **:**

It must be the amount of money, which flies around her. The sound of their laugh irritates her. Millions of dollar suspended in the air, and the dollar bills drop on her like heavy rain. Andrea Harrison raises her eyes, and she experiences many emotions. Her boyfriend's words echo in her mind and his speech resonates through every crevice of Andrea's mind. From a minute, the world around her blurs, and she stares in his piercing blue eyes. His velvety voice fills the room, and she gives into the memory.

 _"Have you ever flirted with the other side of the law?" He questions while he takes away the reports, which she holds._

 _He is her handler, and they recently started to date. The young man represents everything Andrea wants in a man, and he appears to return her love. To his unexpected question, her first answer is a small frown. Stiffly, she laughs at the time. Obviously, she knows how it feels to be on the other side of the law. After her Quantico's years, Andrea became an undercover agent, and she tells him so much._

 _His laugh resonates through the entire room, and he places a soft kiss on her lips. Carelessly, he discards the reports about another drug cartel. He takes her face between his hand, and he stares into the soft blue of Andrea's eyes. Since they met, he has noticed a craving and a need for more. Today, he wants to explore it. His lips cover her, and they exchange a passionate kiss._

 _"I'm not talking about playing the bad guys, sweetheart. Do you know the thrill of breaking the rules without having the explicit permission to do so?" His words travel within the room, and his grace fascinates her._

 _How he withstands every element captivates Andrea, and how tall he appears to be comforts her. His charisma draws her more than his words do. However, his words influence her next step._

 _"Does it annoy you when your work goes to waste?" He points at the reports, which he haphazardly threw aside._

 _The young woman stares at the works of many months, and she knows it was a futile task. His words awake old resentments. When Andrea joined the FBI, she had dream for grandiosity. However, with time, the reality helped undo her delusion of justice. Now, she is blasé and unhappy with her job. He has seen it, which is why he approached her._

" _You can't beat the criminals, and you know how it ends every time. Many hours of infiltration lost because they want to negotiate with criminals." The passion in his voice corrupts her mind, and she is empathic in his anger._

 _How many times did she lose many hours of investigation? A part of Andrea is idealistic, and the system has crushed that soft side of the young woman. Their job is an ungrateful one, and she does not need him to recognise it. However, he voices it and empowers her thoughts. Captivated, she nods in agreement, and her resentment with the system resurfaces._

 _"It's how the system works." Andrea regretfully tells him._

 _The young woman repeats to him what she tells herself every day. Those words never silenced her regret, and she doesn't expect them to convince her boyfriend. He wholeheartedly laughs and pities Andrea's naiveté. He refrains to tell her that the system works for a selected few and he intends to make it work for him._

" _Take advantage of the system or it will chew you. When did you see your sister for the last time? Are you done with your student loan? How much is your life insurance? You risk your life, and it doesn't make the system treats you better." The young man regurgitates a prepared speech._

 _"This job will ravage your youth, your beauty, and your soul. You will do things, which you will regret, and you will cease to pretend to be a criminal. Somewhere along the way, you will be as amoral as the criminal, who you hunt. Unfortunately, you won't have half the fun, which they have." He punctuates his sentence with a depreciative smirk._

 _The man watches how his words affect the young FBI detective. She hangs on every syllable of every word. The young man gloats, but he maintains his exterior countenance. Andrea is not the first one to hear his monologue. Before her, he has recruited other. However, she may be the most important pawn for his long-term game._

 _"A Hundred, a thousand, a million dollar. Money, which you can count, but it will never be your money. As an FBI agent, you will have enough money to live above poverty, but you will never know luxury. You're brilliant, and you may figure it out." When he has Andrea undoubtedly interest, he ends his monologue._

 _He watches as the seed, who he planted in her head starts to blossom. They have been together for four months, and he subtly started to plant idea in her mind. Now, it is time to harvest what he sow._

 _"What happens if I don't want the life, which you describe?" Andrea asks the question, which the young man wanted her to ask._

" _You will switch sides and join the criminals. Fortunately, you will have the system to support you. Together, we can manage a takeover. We will control the organized crime in Atlanta. It will be less violent." The passion and dream, which he manages to add between every word, captivate Andrea._

" _Do you have a way to accomplish such fit? We can't walk in there and take over the business. It takes a year to infiltrate the lowest rank." ultimately, Andrea becomes sceptical._

 _Ultimately, a smile spreads on his lips. He has worked on that question for the past four years, and he needs her to accomplish his plan. With pride, he starts his explanation._

 _"Four major organisations dominate the organized-crime world in Atlanta. Ezekiel leads the kingdom. Gregory commands the hilltop. Negan leads the saviors. Ultimately, the ASZ is secretive, and their leader's name is unknown. It could be a woman or a man. Now, it matters little because I intend to remap the organized crime, and we will starts by taking over the major organizations." He starts to explain his plan._

 _With many words, he draws a picture, which she easily understands. He continues to sell her and utopia, and he promises a better Atlanta. A less violent city because they would control the violence. Andrea wants to believe him, and she silences the skepticism, which she possesses._

" _How?" Andrea questions._

 _She knows how hard it is to join these crime syndicates, and it is harder to attack them. For years, she failed to gain the trust of many drug lord or mobster. Approaching anyone of high importance is hard._

 _"The books, there is no time to build a new business from the ground. Our job is to infiltrate those groups, and we should take advantage of that. We will conquer the four major one, and we will unit them as one. We already have men inside." The young man opens his desk cupboard, and he pulls his files._

 _He emphasizes the use of "we" to make her feels a part of the grand scheme. He pushes the files toward Andrea, and she has a clear look at a work of his lifetime._

" _ASZ is going to be a problem." She points out an obstacle._

 _There is nothing about the cartel. No name and no target, how do they pursue a ghost? If they can't locate the leader, how will they find the books? When it comes to being lethal and practical, the ASZ has the best reputation. However, they manage to stay under the FBI radar. They exist while being virtually invisible, and whoever runs their operations must be a crime genius._

" _It is fortunate that I'm a problem solver. We will take over the three other groups, and we will start with the hilltop. Later we will attack ASZ." He reassures her._

 _"How convenient." Andrea answers, and she picks the file on the Hilltops._

 _The hilltop is her current infiltration, and she knows where to start. The man especially targeted her because of her assignment. However, Andrea is too naive to read past the seduction game. Satisfied with her answer, he places a kiss on the crown of her head. He never expected it to be so easy, but he will not complain against the universe's generosity._

…

…

…

…

Prior to this arrest, Andrea made her choice. The young woman looks around her, and many of the men, who surround her are colleagues, who she has known for years. However, she wants the life, which her boyfriend promises. Today, they raided one of the major territory of the Hilltops. They put her in charge of the FBI team, and the young woman knows what she must do to reach their ultimate goal. Tonight, their conquest of Atlanta starts. Andrea inhales as much air as she can, and she continues to stares at the money, which endlessly fall from the sky.

Millions dollar turn into evidence, and it will return to the hands of criminals, who deserve to go jail or painfully die. Because of the system, there is no justice. Her choice is poetic justice, or so she chooses to believe. For a minute, she closes her eyes and wonders what of her future. If she goes through with the plan, Andrea Harrison must die. She has a little sister, but she is tired of being a mother figure. She is tired of being the perfect woman. She is tired of being Andrea Harrison.

Somehow, those thoughts cement her belief, and the young woman opens her eyes. When the lights hit her eyes, blue irises constrict. For many years, Andrea worked with these men, and she knows their families. She draws more air, and she attempts to subdue her nerves. Andrea's boyfriend requested the use of lethal force. He sold her a lie of no violence. However, he asks of her to prove her loyalty by compromising her moral's values.

The young FBI agent stares at the mobsters' bodies on the ground, and Gregory's head lays near her combat boots. Blood grazes her shoes, and she notices that she has a fascination with blood. Andrea kneels down, and she starts to look for the book. It took her two months of constant sex with Gregory to discover what the hilltops book was, and Andrea has never known a man, who was so predictable. Her hands continue to dig through the dead man's pocket until she can retrieve the key to a bank account. Quickly, she hides it, and she must focus on the cleaning job.

There are infiltrated men through the FBI squad, and she has to remember the code to send the signal. Unsure of her decision, she hesitates. It is a loyalty test for her boyfriend. Having sex with Gregory to further his plan proves nothing, and bloodshed cements the strength of a partnership. Before this mission, she was extremely professional, but he taught her to play dirty. The young woman enjoys flirting with the lanes of amorality.

Andrea summons her courage, and she raises her arm until everyone in the room can see it. Her palm summons the focus of those informed of the next step, and many guns leave their protective sheets. Clamor fills the room, and cries of indignation echo on the metal wall. Suddenly, the atmosphere becomes tense, and all eyes are on the blonde woman. The lives of FBI agents hang on her will, and she basks in power as her boyfriend promised. Andrea hears her coworker beg, but she decides to ignore the idealistic part of her conscience, which continues to exist.

The young woman opens her palm, and the sounds of unlocking gun safety echo through the giant metal storage room. It is a symphony, which adds to the dramatic touch of the moment.

"You know my wife." A desperate voice resonates against the wall, but he doesn't soften her heart.

She closes her hand, and the bullets leave her men's guns. It is a cruel execution and many FBI agents drop to the ground. She doesn't come down of the power high, and her motivation to take over Atlanta strengthens. Suddenly, a laugh leaves her lips when she sees him. Excited, she runs to him and jumps in his arm. He catches her, and she wraps her legs on his waist.

"I see you liked it? Breaking the rule feels amazing," He asked what he already knows.

Unashamed of her actions, Andrea nods her head. She covers his lips with hers, and she allows him to remind her why she loves him.

"You were wonderful, sweetheart. Did he have the books?" He places another kiss on her lips, and he helps her back to the floor.

Andrea pulls the key out of her pocket, and she places it in his hand. They smile at each other, and He turns his attention to the rest of the room. It is a carnage, and many dead bodies paved the ground. Blood has spread everywhere and tainted some of the money.

"Collect the money and burn the bodies. We have to make it look like a raid, which ended in a bloodbath." He orders while he takes Andrea's hand and takes her out of the room.

"So are you taking over the hilltops?" She questions him, and he takes a minute to reply.

Andrea is not supposed to know the detail, and often he omits the biggest part of the truth. After a minute, he settles for the most diplomatic answer. He gives enough of an answer to satisfy her.

"Not until I have the missing books, and I don't want to arouse suspicion. You will have to do what you did with Gregory with someone else." He answers, and he starts to lay the foundation for their next move.

The young man has a specific use for Andrea, and he doesn't intend to stop his undertaking of Atlanta mob. By the end, he will be at the head of the four major crime syndicates. The group, which he can take over peacefully, he will seek to destroy them.

"You mean having sex with him and play the boss' girlfriend." she clarifies his demand.

Andrea's smile morphs into a pout, and she remembers Gregory's hands on her. The experience continues to make her shiver, but it was necessary for their grand scheme.

"Don't pout, sweetheart. I told you about playing dirty, and this is the way to get the work done." He doesn't pretend to be ashamed of his demand.

Everyone has a role, and so far, Andrea will have to whore herself out. She has a beautiful visage, and it distracts many men. Which is part of the reasons why he chose her. A distracted man is an easy target.

"Who?" the young woman doesn't argue.

She is too much under his charm to question him. Although, she is not eager to jump into the bed of men, who aren't him. Satisfied with her obedience, he leans and takes her lips between his. He kisses her with passion and devotion for few minutes. He breaks the kiss, but he stays close to her. he whispers words against Andrea's lips.

"Negan and his accountant. Always follow the money." He points at the storage room full of dollars.

"Thing, which I do out of love. Everyone knows Negan is an asshole." She jokes and kisses him.

"Make me proud."

* * *

 **Present…**

 **Monday approximately 3: 25 a.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

Rick's weight crushes Michonne's body, and the heat, which his body emits, suffocates the young woman. Unable to stand more of the heat, she wakes up sweating and unable to move. Rick's arms keep her press to the mattress, and his body overlaps her left side. In their position, she has no range of motion, and the air, which she breathes smells like Rick. Somehow, he has managed to undo her loose bun, and dreadlocks stick to her sweaty face.

The young woman sighs, but she doesn't attempt to correct the situation. If Michonne moves, she may wake up. In attempt to return the fierceness of his embrace, she rests her head on his chest. She presses her ear to the left side of his chest, and she allows the beating of his heart to calm her. Michonne feels ridiculous, but she has to quench her thirst for more than passionate tryst. This moment in Rick's arm may be more meaningful than anything else that will happen between the pair.

The heat in the room is unbearable, and perspiration covers every inch of her skin. In any other circumstances and other arms, Michonne will have attempted to escape the warm enclave. The young woman feels as if she is on a verge to burn, but she refuses to lose Rick's warmth. Michonne stares at Rick, and she does not know what to think. Truthfully, she has no control over her emotion, and her heart has started to rebel against logic. Her finger brushes a lone curl on his forehead, and she knows how exposed she has become.

It is a hot Georgian summer night, and the humidity clogs the air. The air conditioner is obsolete, and the extra heat from Rick's body almost renders Michonne dizzy. The young woman has to choose between physical comfort and proximity to Rick. She closes the remaining distance between them, and she nuzzles his neck. His scent appears to have a soothing effect on her nerves, and it brings a sentiment of safety. She kisses the curve of his neck, and she continues to close the nonexistence distance between their bodies.

Careful not to disturb Rick's peaceful slumber, Michonne twists, and attempts to remove her pajama short. The young woman always has trouble with the heat, and she needs a way to cool her body. The best option is to disrobe because she refuses to relinquish the opportunity to exist in his arm without constraint. Now, she is free to enjoy the moment, and she does not have to pretend to dislike his proximity.

With the passing minutes, she becomes lightheaded and almost nauseous. She should let go of Rick and attempts to find fresh air. However, she continues to seek more of his warmth. It is misplaced greed, and she doesn't know when she will allow herself such liberty around Rick. Her hands frame his face, and her thumbs explore his skin. Rick moans, and she freezes afraid that he will catch her. The young woman is afraid to display her feeling in front of Rick, but now, she can be exuberant.

Michonne continues to stare at him, and she watches his chest rise. He snorts softly, and she allows herself to learn such details about him. His thighs are warm, and she pushes her cold feet between them. His skin is sensitive to her touch, and she learns it while goosebumps covers his bare chest after a caress of her knuckle. Rick Grimes is a heavy sleeper, and she does not know what use she has of this type detail. It is too domestic, and they aren't a couple.

Rick Grimes doesn't feel like a mistake, and her sentiment for him are too organic. Michonne is not deaf to the truth, and she knows what Rick deserves. The young woman knows that she is selfish, and she could offer him more. However, more means all of her. Every minute, she gives him more of her. He took her body first, and later he invaded her heart. Now, she may risk her sanity.

Their time together will end, and she should carefully trade. Michonne decides to memorize the characteristics of him, which she will remember with fondness. Why does she submit herself to such torture? She has failed to push Rick Grimes away.

How sad and hurtful, she can love him when he is unaware. Michonne continues to explore Rick's body, and she finally can bask in her feelings. There is a certain abandon attached to her touch, and she doesn't have to pretend for both their sake. For once, Michonne is unguarded. Hiding her emotions from him is distressing. Hiding her adoring glances is disheartening. It hurts to chase him away with coldness

Their bodies have become one, and every of her movement may awaken Rick. Michonne attempts to be careful, and she takes her hair out of the way. The young woman does everything in her power to prevent Rick from waking up. She needs times to act like a woman in love. Michonne wants few hours when she can pretend that Rick and she could be a domestic couple.

….

….

….

….

The Fates disrupt her plan, and a slight movement drives Michonne's elbow to Rick's chest. The young man groans and his eyes flutter open. Tetanized, Michonne stares into the blue of his eyes, and she feels stupid for allowing her heart to take the lead. Now, she has to find an excuse for holding on so tight to him. Although, a soft and lazy smile from Rick interrupts her thoughts. She stares at him with genuine wonderment, and she presses her lips to his. Michonne refuses to resist her impulse, and she wants to steal his smile because he will never be so unguarded when he is awake.

"Hey..." His hoarse and sleepy voice fills the room, and Michonne's heart gallops.

"Hey, you..." she timidly replies and stops herself from saying more words.

Michonne runs her finger along his jaws. When the sleep haze disappears, she will have to stop, but for now, she acts upon her impulses. She refuses to say a word because a conversation will arouse Rick's mind.

"Are you okay?" He questions when he notices her breathless expression.

Rick's softness continues to surprise her when it should no longer. Michonne has started to associate Rick with more than a brute. She sees in him more of the man, who manages to make Andre feel safe. For Michonne, Rick is a flawed man, but he is no longer the monster that she wanted him to be. She has unraveled too many layers of his person, and it was her mistake.

Rick has become too human, and the humanity, which she bestows upon him, is her weakness. The young woman has ceased to villainize him. Michonne must admit that there is a part of Rick, which is vulnerable. His vulnerability fascinates her and awakens her protective side. She will hurt him if she cannot control her affection for him. Reasonably, Rick Grimes doesn't need protection, but she feels the need to keep him safe. From that sentiment, she can no longer pretend to be detached. She is losing the fight, but she may have ceased to resist.

"I can't breathe, you hold me to tight." The words leave her mouth, but she regrets revealing the truth.

"Okay," He replies, and Michonne helplessly watches him break their embraces.

She regrets telling him the truth. After all, she has survived a few minutes in that unbearable heat. Her hand clings on his forearm, and she doesn't dare to verbalize her need for proximity between their bodies. When he is asleep, she is carefree and she doesn't have to overthink the affection that she displays. She has mastered the art to hide her excitement around him. Around Rick, Michonne must continually shove her hand in her pocket. How hard it is to fight the need to touch him.

Tonight, she forgets how to restrain herself. Consequently, she wants to runs her finger on every inch of his skin. Now, Michonne stares at Rick while he drifts to the other side of her bed. She holds on his forearm until she feels a strain on her fingers. The words sit on the tip of her tongue, and her mind chastises her. Michonne is good at pretence and control.

"Rick?" She calls for him, and she wants to denunciate to the self-inflicted torture.

Michonne inhales and she wonders how to formulate her request. In the last months, she has kept her distance, but she wants so much more from Rick. The battle of will is straining on her mind. Michonne wants to be affectionate with Rick, but her mind undermined her heart. Andre is her priority, and a relationship with Rick will cement her appurtenance to his crazy world. How does she raise a son in the middle of threats? She must retain the lesson, which she learned from her delusion with Mike.

Michonne has to take her son out of this crazy world. If she allows any relationship with Rick, she will stay by his side. The young woman doesn't want to be _the queen_. She doesn't want to have bodies mailed to her home. Rick Grimes is not unlovable, and she has ceased to use that excuse. It is untrue because her heart beats for him. She can fight it, but she has stopped to ignore her sentiments. Although, in his world, there is no place for romance. There is no place for Andre and her. Every day, she has to repeat this sentence like a mantra.

Rick mumbles as a response to her call, and Michonne doesn't know how to pursue. Her reason continues to criticise her heart's desires. She draws a deep breath, and she moves to her side of the bed. There is a need for distance, and she needs to discipline her heart. Michonne faces the ceiling, and she refuses to glance at Rick. They should stick to the arrangement.

Michonne does not allow herself to sleep. If she sleeps, she will seek his warmth. Michonne control is fleeting, and the excuses, which she tells herself, are futile. When the room becomes silent and she is sure that he sleeps, Michonne returns inside the embrace of his arms. The young woman rolls on her side, and she can face his profile. Every moment in his presence, she steals a glance at him. Now, that he is asleep, she can freely watch him. She leans and places a kiss on the tip of his nose. She has mastered the art to love him when he is unaware.

"I think I'm in love with you, but I shouldn't be." She presses a kiss on his cheek, and she leaves the bed because she has submitted herself to this torture too long.

* * *

He wakes up to the sound of shattering glass, and it is unusual. Carl rubs the sleep away from his eyes, and he leaves his bed to investigate the noise. The corridor looks like a small town, which barely survived a hurricane.

The tween stares at the broken object on the floor, and he wonders what may have happened to cause this. Lori's voice echoes against every wall of their home. The succession of curse depicts a clear picture of the situation.

Carl knows better than to say in the house with a hysteric Lori. In her highest moment of anger, she projects her frustration with Rick on their son. Careful not to attract his mother's attention, Carl returns to his room, and he searches for his phone. For a minute, he stares at his father contact information. The tween becomes indecisive, and he does not believe his father would be helpful.

Carl walks to his window, and he stares at Michonne's porch. The lights are on, and he can see the blanket near the door. The boy doesn't want to believe that Michonne meant the considerable gesture. Perhaps, she forgot last night blanket, but Carl remembers how caring her eyes were. With a leap of faith, Carl packs his backpack with comic and takes a packet of chips. He glances at the clock on his nightstand, and it is 4: 30 a.m. If he trusts his previous experience with his mother's anger, Lori will retrieve her countenance just in time to pretend to be the perfect mom and wife for the neighbourhood to see. When their neighbours wake up, she will stop her display of hysteria. Carl leaves his room through the window, and he stares at Michonne's home.

...

...

...

...

For a few minutes, Carl paces back and forth. He hesitates on his next move, and he puts his back on the porch. Perhaps, it will be safe to wander the street. Although, he is in need of comfort, and he can sit on the porch.

Instinct overpowers his reason. With hesitation, he knocks on Michonne's door. The knock is frail and barely audible. Carl is unsure of his action, and he doesn't know why he knocks at her door. There is no response for a few seconds, and his unprotected heart constricts.

The boy picks his backpack from the parquet, and he stares at the blanket, which Michonne left for his comfort. The night is warm, and the heat is unbearable. However, Carl carries them to the corner of the porch, and he feels comforted. For the last time, he readies himself to knock on her door, but she opens it before his hand hits the wooden surface.

"Hi?" Timidly, he says, and he does not dare to face her.

Michonne glances back at her home, and she steps out. She assumes the knock must have only wake her up and the men in the house continue to sleep.

"Hi! The manga right." She attempts to ease Carl's discomfort.

The boy's discomfort is unmistakable. A glance at him tells a long story, and so she offers him a warm smile. Michonne was afraid that she scared him last night, and guilt was eating her inside. She didn't want to be responsible for a child roaming the streets because she took away his safe place.

"Okay..." Carl replies and he drags his word.

He wants to say more, but he doesn't know how to proceed. The tween starts to blush and squirms due to discomfort. Why did he expect? Why would she care for him? He misinterpreted her generosity last night, and his father told him never to abuse anyone generosity.

"Do you want anything else?" Michonne's voice breaks him out of his mind.

The same reassuring smile sits on her lips, and Carl instinctively relaxes. For the first time, the tween returns her smile, and he inhales as much air as he can

"Can I sit on your porch, ma'am?" His tone is a mixture between politeness and hurry.

Carl looks up, and he waits for Michonne's answer. The woman doesn't verbalize her answer. She takes the blanket and lies it on the parquet. She arranges it so he can have a comfortable spot to sit and puts the pillow against the wall for his back.

"it is all yours." When she finishes arranging the spot, she tells Carl.

Hesitantly, the boy sits and starts to unpack the bag. He spreads his comic and manga on the blanket. Michonne doesn't make a move, and she watches to ensure he is comfortable. The feeling is strange for Carl, and the adults have stopped watching over him. He doesn't know how to react because Michonne's look doesn't feel invasive.

"You can sit too if you want?" Ultimately, he offers after a few minutes.

Michonne raises an eyebrow, and his offer surprises her.

"I don't want to bother you," Michonne says while she takes a spot by Carl's side.

It doesn't sit well with her to leave a child on his own at night. Although, she assumes Rick will chastise her for being careless. This kid could be a trap, but she feels a sort of connection. If he wanders alone at night, he may need her help.

"As long as you're quiet," Carl replies, and he picks a comic that he places in Michonne's hand.

"Okay..." She doesn't know what to reply

...

...

...

...

The pair spends half an hour in silence, and Michonne fights the impulse to ask questions. She doesn't need an extra source of worry, but this boy may be in deep trouble. The young woman doesn't want to afraid him, and she understands that he is suspicious of people. Strangely, she has taken a liking on him.

They continue to be silent, and only the noise of the packet of chips opening disturbs their silence. Carl grabs a handful, and he passes the packet to Michonne. She takes a few chips, and she glances at Carl, who focuses on his comic book.

"Did you like the other manga?" His voice surprises her, and she blinks for a second.

"I found it slow, but I have to read the remaining page," Michonne replies, and her answer satisfies Carl.

He nods in agreement, and he passes her the packet of chips. They quietly eat until Cark feels the need to share something. Michonne wants him to control the exchange. Her experience with Andre's shyness allows Michonne to let Carl control the progress of their conversation. She wants to know the reason behind Carl sitting on her porch. She feels protective of him and wonders if anyone hurts him. Michonne assesses his body in a subtle manner. When she doesn't find any ecchymosis, Michonne is relieved.

"I didn't like it much, and it was slow." Carl continues the conversation.

"Can I ask you a question?" Michonne dares to change the dynamic between them.

The boy tenses and Michonne chooses to backtrack.

"Nothing personal, I know you aren't supposed to speak to a stranger. I tell my son Andre not to speak to strangers. He is extremely shy, and so it isn't a problem." She starts to blabber, but it is efficient.

"Okay..." Hesitant, Carl replies with false nonchalance.

"Okay?" Michonne questions to allow him to choose.

"What do you need to know?" Carl sounds more confident than he was a minute ago.

He has given it a thought, and for him, Michonne is a decent adult. He may even like her.

"What is the best comic coffee shop in this neighbourhood?" Michonne asks with seriousness.

She changes her initial question in consideration of his discomfort. She wanted to ask his name, but the timing may be inappropriate.

"I don't drink coffee." Carl shrugs, and he continues to read the comic in his hand.

"Oh, the stupid question was stupid. You're too young to drink coffee." Michonne adds.

"I'm twelve. Mom says that I'm grown enough to be responsible for my own shit. Does it mean I can drink coffee? Are comic coffee shops fun place?" Carl corrects Michonne.

When Michonne hears the curses leave Carl's mouth, she frowns. She directs a stern look at him, and Carl apologizes. She ruffles his hair to reassure him, and then she apologizes for it. Strangely, Carl is comfortable with her familiarity.

"Well, there are a lot of sweet cake and free comic books to read," Michonne replies to his previous question.

"I like sweet cake and comic." Carl offers without a second thought.

"Me too," Michonne adds between a soft giggle, and Carl smirks.

He is not ready for exuberance. His smirk is the most genuine, and Michonne knows it.

"I will ask my dad where to find one. I have to go ma'am." When the sun rises, Carl starts to pack his bag.

The boy is in a hurry, and Michonne helps him fill his backpack.

"Your manga." She offers him when he is about to leave her porch.

Carl is disappointed, but he takes the book. If there is no manga, what will be his next excuse to knock at her door? He deeply inhales.

"Do you want another one?" Hopeful, he asks Michonne.

The young woman never intended to reject Carl's offer. Accordingly, a glance at his pleading eyes sealed the deal. Michonne smiles and extends her hand to receive another manga.

"A faster and intriguing one, please." She adds.

Excitedly, Carl starts to search inside his backpack until he triumphantly pulls on manga, which appears to be overused.

"This is my favourite." He says while he places the book in Michonne's hand.

Now, the young woman hearts warmth off, and she wants to hug this big, who she ignores the first name. He took her sadness away for a few minutes.

"I will take care of it..." She subtly attempts to learn his name.

Carl leaves Michonne's porch, and he considers his options. Should they stay stranger? Michonne patiently smiles at him while he makes his decision. He does like her, and he likes her porch too.

"Carl. Michonne right?" he asks while he crosses the streets.

"Nice to meet you." She shouts on the other side while she watches him enter the house across the streets.

Now, Michonne has in mind to investigate what is happening in Carl's life. Should present herself as the new neighbour? Should she ask Rick to look into it? Michonne pushes thought of involving Rick. Any demands with Rick turns into a reason to amend the arrangement. She stares at the house across the streets, and she wonders what pushes Carl to come out every night.

* * *

.

When Rick stares too long at her back, Michonne decides to break the silence. She turns off the stove and places the fried eggs on a plate. The domesticity of the moment is abnormal. Following last night, the couple cannot return to normalcy.

"Shoot." Frustrated, Michonne asks Rick

She grabs fruits to cut for Andre's breakfast.

"Trying not to ruin the new found peace." Truthful and with a mastered nonchalance, Rick attempts to avoid the conflict.

Ignoring Michonne's glare, he picks Andre from the floor and places the toddler on his lap.

"Your stare doesn't help." Michonne counters and she continues to set the breakfast table.

The scene is surrealist, and it causes tension between the pair. Why do they act like a perfect family? When Andre attempts to climb the table, Rick stops.

"Well, I ain't open my mouth to point out the problem." Rick counters and redirects the blame on Michonne.

"You prefer staring," Michonne replies.

To emphasize her frustration with Rick, she rolls her eyes. Andre watches the adult have their back and forth, and he selects the words, which he wants to repeat.

"Is she always this moody in the morning?" Rick questions the toddler on his laps.

Andre searches the meaning of moody in his small mind, and he gives up after a few seconds. Consequently, the toddler continues his discovery of the living room table. Michonne picks her son from the table, and she instinctively returns him to Rick's laps.

"I'm not moody in the morning." She argues, but her tone starts to carry her annoyance.

"Moody?" Andre decides to add his input to the conversation.

The little boy continues to taste the words on his tongue. Rick ruffles his hair and Andre giggles. The toddler turns and offers a proud smile. He must have perfectly said the word moody, and so he repeats it again.

"Mama is moody." He adds for good measure.

"Thank you, little man." Rick leans to tap Andre's nose with his forefinger.

"Andre." The little boy corrects Rick and the adults in the room laugh.

"Thank you, Andre. You can call me Rick." Rick says with a geniality, which Michonne doesn't expect from him.

"You're welcome. Rick." Andre solemnly answers.

Michonne stares at the pair, and she reminds herself where it ends. She walks up to Rick, and she picks up Andre. What are the points to allow the pair to build a relationship?

"Okay ..." Michonne starts to speak, but she doesn't know what to say.

She does not want more sneak peaks of an impossible life.

…

…

…

…

"You know you can talk to me." She says from across the door.

Rick's brooding has become a cause for concern, and she tried to ignore him. However, after last night, she is protective of him and the little emotions, which he feels.

"Having a change of heart, princess." Rick attempts to brush her concern.

He doesn't need false hope and Last night complicated his emotional state. Rick never intended to acknowledge is love, but the words continue to echo in his mind.

"I'm trying here." Michonne ignores his mockery, and she sits next to him.

She made a promise last night, and she will honour it. Michonne promised Rick to acknowledge is humanity, and she intends to do so. However, it makes her vulnerable to him and the love, which she tries to fight.

"It's nothang." Rick's nonchalance deflates after a glance at her concern expression.

"Nothang?" She mocks his accent, and Rick cocks an eyebrow.

"Last night wasn't meant to be more than last night." He reminds her, and she softly smiles.

They know where they stand. Michonne's hand covers Rick's hand, and she intertwines her fingers. Rick stares at their joint hand, and he wonders when his period of grace will end.

"Are you okay?" She ignores the surprise on his face, and she focuses on how natural it feels to hold his hand.

"Since when do you care, princess?" He spits because he is trying to escape another heartbreak.

Michonne refuses to take the bait, and she ignores his petty tone.

"I'm trying, but you're making it hard." She says, and a depreciative smile sits on Rick's lip.

"Don't blur the line. Don't do that shit when you remind me why I fucking want you to the point where it's painful." He gives up the pretence, and Michonne takes away her hand.

They blurred the line last night, and she no longer knows what is acceptable.

"I'm sorry." She moves away from him, and instinctively, he follows.

Rick's hands frame Michonne's face, and his knuckles graze her soft skin. Michonne sighs and she knows what he wants to avoid. Words are too intimate, and they can't continue to flirt with that line. She needs to pull out before she falls to deep. However, what is lower than the floor?

"Here, we go again. You did the thang." Rick points out.

"Did what?" She questions breathlessly when his lips tease her.

His tongue darts to suck on her bottom lip and his finger teases the hem of her blouse.

"The thang..." He whispers against her mouth, and he kisses her.

His passion for her touch overwhelms her, and the intrusion of his tongue into her mouth lights a new fire. Their tongues maintain the pace of a sensual tango, each tease met. Their lips twist around each other with passion. The tango of their tongues with the eagerness of both party becomes a majestic inflamed rumba. Rick is bolder with his touch and palms her breast. With a strong grip on her waist, he guides her body and lies over her. He pinches her nipples through the thin cotton of her blouse, and he swallows her cries of pleasure through their inflamed kiss.

Rick kisses her elegant neck, and he breaks the kiss to remove her blouse. His mouth explores her collar until his tongue licks her nipple.

Michonne's back arcs and it gives Rick a better access to her breast.


	10. Chapter 10

**This update was supposed to come earlier but my sinusitis returned, and I had impossible headache for a month.**

 **Thank you for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

 **Please review**

* * *

 **Chapter IX: Monday's madness (PART II).**

* * *

"You know you can talk to me." She says from across the door as her eyes fall on his exhausted frame.

He sits on the bed with tense shoulders, and Michonne hesitates to enter his den. She does not want him to pry on her newfound desire to express her caring feeling for him. Rick's brooding has become a cause for concern, and she tried to ignore him. Although after last night, she is protective of him, and the little emotions, which he feels, affect Michonne.

"Having a change of heart, princess." Rick attempts to brush her concern, and he leans back on the soft mattress.

Somehow, he continues to feel out of control, and he does not know where to seek it back.

He does not need false hope, and their night spun his emotional state. Rick never intended to acknowledge his love, but the words continue to echo in his mind. The detective faces the ceiling, and he wonders when his tight grip on the situation loosened. Rick fails to control his heart, and his mind chose the wrong time to develop a conscience.

"I'm trying here." Michonne ignores his jeering words, and she sits next to him.

The young woman does not dare to join him in his relaxed posture. She sits at the end of the bed with her back straight, and she cannot surrender her emotional countenance.

Michonne made a promise last night, and so she will honour it. She promised that she would acknowledge his humanity. Consequently, she intends to offer him some support. However, her desire to help him makes her vulnerable to him and to the love, which she tries to fight. Michonne is afraid of her vulnerability, and the lack of control, which it requires, terrifies the young woman.

"It's nothang." Rick's nonchalance disappears after a glimpse of Michonne's concerned expression.

"Nothang?" She mocks his accent, and Rick cocks an eyebrow.

"Last night should not mean more than what it was." He reminds her, and she softly smiles at him.

They know where they stand. Michonne's hand covers Rick's hand, and she intertwines their fingers. Rick stares at their joint hand, and he wonders when his period of grace ends.

"Are you okay?" Michonne ignores the surprise on Rick's face, and she focuses on how natural it feels to hold his hand.

"Oh, you care for my lil feelings, princess?" The detective spits as he attempts to escape another heartbreak.

Michonne has given him many false hopes, and Rick no longer wants to expect more than breadcrumbs. The young woman refuses to bite the bait, and she ignores Rick's petty tone.

"I'm trying, but you're making it hard to care for you." She says in frustration, and a depreciative smile lies on Rick's lips.

"Don't blur the lines. Don't do that shit that you do when you want to remind me why I fucking want you to the point where it's painful." He gives up the pretence, and Michonne takes away her hand.

Last night, they blurred the lines, and the young woman no longer knows what is acceptable in their relationship. Michonne inhales deeply, and she wipes her moist palm on her jeans. She feels anxious, and it is a strange feeling. It is almost as bad as butterflies in her stomach.

"I'm sorry." She moves away from him, and he instinctively follows her.

Rick seats and his arm touches Michonne's arm. Rick's hands frame Michonne's face, and his knuckles brush her soft skin. Michonne sighs and she knows what he wants to avoid. Words are too intimate, and they cannot continue to flirt with intricate lines of their relationship. Michonne needs to end everything before she falls deeply for Rick. However, what is lower than the floor?

"Here, we go again. You did the thang." Rick announces with a teasing tone.

"Did what?" She breathlessly questions when his lips tease hers.

Rick's tongue darts to suck on her bottom lip and his finger teases the hem of her blouse.

"That thang..." Rick whispers against her mouth, and he kisses her.

Rick's passion for her touch overwhelms her, and the intrusion of his tongue into her mouth lights a new fire in her shivering body. Their tongues maintain the pace of a sensual tango, and fiery tongue thrusts meet every teasing bite. Their lips twist around each other with a flaming passion. Due to the eagerness of both parties, the tango of their tongues becomes a majestic inflamed rumba. Rick is bolder with his touch, and he fondles Michonne's breast. With a strong grip on her waist, he guides her body down the mattress, and he lies over her petite frame. Rick pinches her nipples through the thin cotton of her blouse, and he swallows her cries of pleasure through their inflamed kiss.

Rick kisses Michonne's elegant neck, and he breaks the kiss to remove her blouse. His mouth explores her collar until his tongue licks her nipple.

Michonne's back arcs and it gives Rick a better path to her breast. He runs his tongue along her breastbone, and abruptly, Rick stills his exploring hands.

….

….

….

….

"Andre?" Rick questions when for the strangest reason, his mind decides to worry about how loud Michonne can be in her moments of abandon.

With sudden clarity, he assumes that the toddler may be roaming around the living room. The room is not soundproof, and he has no intention to spend money on therapy for future trauma on Andre's psyche. Although, Rick's hand continues to seek the erogenous zone of Michonne's body. His right thumb rubs her nape, and he alternates with light tugs on her loose locks.

Michonne hisses at the stimulating pain, and she commands her brain to follow their conversation. What was the question? Andre? When his fingers slip through her loose bun to caress her scalps, the young woman deeply inhales, and Rick's fragrance burns her nostril. Rick smells like masculinity wrapped in unexpected softness, and she can get wet on his scent alone. Rick's left hand explore Michonne's inner thighs, and what foolish it was to wear jeans. The young woman's tingling skin yearns for his skilful touch. The soft pressure of his thumb on her supple ties when his fingers sensually crawl toward the centre of her femininity, Michonne needs more air. She feels the warmth of his palm, but she wants more of the roughness of his callous palms. There is a question, which requires an answer? Although, her firing synapses solemnly focus on the pressure of Rick's thumb against her tender clitoris while the coarse material of her jeans creates enjoyable friction.

Michonne dodges Rick's caress to retrieve her mind's functionality, and she intertwines her fingers with his to paralyze his hand. Michonne forgets that Rick possesses prolific lips, and he mouth, which kisses her collarbone, is a sensual reminder of that fact. The wetness of his tongue cools her heating skin, and his small bites on her tender skin set her mind ablaze. Michonne fails to breathe. How does Rick expect an answer when he is a distraction to her cognitive thoughts? Michonne presses her mouth to his lips to stop the sweet invasion of his tongue.

Rick's hand between Michonne's thighs retraces its steps and creates a new path of blazing caresses until her ass. With a handful, Rick squeezes the tender flesh. He knows what she likes. Michonne smiles between their kisses. The young woman releases Rick's hand, which she held hostage. He will have better use of it. Promptly, the hand descends on her ass. The detective runs his large palm on the rough denim, which covers her generous bottom, and Michonne's skin is jealous of the touch wasted on a useless article of clothing.

"Andre, princess?" He insists although his voice grows strained.

"Oh!" Michonne has an epiphany, and that is the question, which she could not remember.

Pleased by his thoughtfulness, she offers the young man a smile, which disarms him. It is so innocently sensual, and his mind adds a sexual connotation to the softness of her lips. She kisses the tip of his nose.

"Park...Sasha." Cohesive sentences are not her forte when his hand presses on her throbbing vagina.

"Good, I like it when you scream." There is a promise in his voice, and her pussy quivers with anticipation.

Rick's lips cover Michonne's one. The passion, which he unleashes on her, is brutal. The pressure of his lips on her lips is demanding, and warmth engulfs every inch of Michonne's body. Rick's kisses are a careful discovery of Michonne's lower lip, which his teeth trap. The kiss is an expert exploration of her upper lip, which Rick's tongue teases after each nibble. The young woman's skin tingles with the desire to experience more of her lover's touch.

Rick knows the cords to pull, and he has mastered her body. When he wants her body to sings odes about his dick, the young man knows what to attempt. Rick understands the sensitivity of her body, and he can work her up to the point where her body could get an orgasm at the sound of his voice or a caress of the wind. He understands when to allow her body to starve from his embrace until his kisses taste like a feast to Michonne. Consequently, his fingers do not run along the curvature of her back, as she wants them. Slowly, Rick undoes the buttons of his shirt, and he takes Michonne's hand. He places the small palm on his chest, and he implicitly orders her to explore his body. If he will not quench her thirst for his touch, he can offer her a palliative.

…

…

…

…

Michonne's free hand pulls on the shirt, and it bursts open. Broken buttons fall on the ground, and their panting breaths dull the clicking sounds. Rick smirks, and he loves when she is so eager and starved that restraint is no longer an option.

"Claw away, kitty." Rick's teeth graze Michonne's earlobe while he murmurs the order against her inflamed skin.

His tongue soothes the tingling spot, and she moans. Michonne's hand fisted Rick's curls, and she holds on the loose tendril for dear life. Bodies impossibly pressed together, she continues to demand more of the touch, which he deprives her.

"Touch me!" He orders in a low growl, and he tugs on her dreadlock until they are loose and spilling from his big palm.

Rick's free hand palms Michonne's bountiful ass and he pushes her toward his engorged manhood. She did not need Rick to prompt her to action, but the order given in his honey husky voice steers the wildest side of the young woman to the surface. Michonne's pussy trembles in acknowledgment of Rick's voice and her clitoris painfully throbs when Rick's grind his manhood against her clothed vagina. Her polished and manicured red nails sink in his firm muscles, and the tip of her sharp nails threatens to break the smooth skin of his pectoral muscles. Michonne drags her nail down Rick's abdomen, and sinuous red marks appear on his smooth skin.

The young woman kisses the corner of Rick's lips, and his growing beard scratches the smooth skin of Michonne's cheek. She runs her tongue along his jaws while her finger pinches his nipples. Rick lets a deep growl spill out of his mouth. Michonne loves the inflection of desire in his voice. Her mouth covers the side of his neck, and her tongue draws the curvature of his neck.

Michonne's teeth scrape his pulsating skin, and her wet tongue soothes the sharp pain. She places butterfly kisses along his pulse, and Michonne drags her half-open mouth on the curvature of his neck. Her mouth adorns his collarbone with opened-mouth kisses. Soon her tongue retraces the sinuous path of her nails. Michonne's nails continue to explore Rick's body, and her forefinger draws a stream on his spine. The curses, which he softly murmurs in the hollow of her ear, makes her entire body shiver. Michonne's left-hand pulls on Rick's belt, and his bigger hand covers hers.

"Too fast, princess." Rick takes Michonne's hand and places it on her breast.

Hooded eyes and blue irises turned grey by desire, he silently orders her. His moan when she twirls her finger around her nipple is a plea for her mercy. Rick does not have to voice his wishes, and his grip on her tightens when she runs her hand along her breastbone. Michonne bites her lower lip, and she continues her ministration on her breast. She touches herself the way that Rick wants to touch her bosom, and Michonne's knuckles graze her dark areola. The young woman teases her nipples, but she never touches her erected nipples.

Michonne moans from the pleasure she gets out of touching herself while Rick watches and orders her. She fondles and caresses her breast. Her hand on Rick's back stills and she selfishly loses herself in her delight. Eyes closed and her head thrown back, Michonne removes her hand from Rick's back, and she shoves it in her pants.

"You know the punishment for selfishness." Rick bites down Michonne's lower lip, and he almost splits the skin, which his kisses bruised. He smacks her ass with enough strength to create pleasurable discomfort. Michonne opens her eyes, and lust and need have turned the warm brown of irises into inscrutable onyx.

"You want it?" Rick places Michonne's hand on his pulsating dick.

Slowly, he lowers his zipper, and his manhood covered by thin layer of cotton springs to life and pocks out the opening. Michonne rubs her hand on Rick's hardened dick, and after a herculean effort, the young detective stops her hand.

"You know the rules." His tongue swirls around her earlobe, and his hand smacks her ass.

His lips returned to Michonne's mouth, and he forces the entrance of his tongue into her welcoming mouth. The kiss is fiery, and lips and teeth aggressively flirt and rubs each other. His tongue easily coerces her tongue into a corrida like motion. As the seconds pass and they start to lack oxygen, Rick slows the pace of their kiss. He lazily nibbles on her lower lip and allows her small gasp for air.

"How I want it..." He pants against the crook of her neck, and he thrust against her wet core.

Rick allows his teeth to sink deeper into Michonne's lower lip as he retakes her mouth. He steals the moan right out of her mouth. Michonne pushes her tongue into his avid mouth, and the passion, which she pours into the kiss, is voracious. The invasion by her tongue is aggressive, and she pulls on his soft scalp. The kiss is all passion and sloppiness. Tongues duelling with an entrancing rhythm until their lungs start to burn from the lack of air. Although, the biological need to breath is not sufficient to stop the suave tango of eager lips, brutal teeth, and combative tongues.

"How you like it." He presses his lips to her as a way to punctuate his statement.

…

…

…

….

Only when life threatens to elude them at the next swipe of saliva, Rick and Michonne concede their defeat against the natural need. They gasp, and his lips continue to brush hers.

Michonne remembers Rick's rule, and she pulls on his curls to tilt his head. Her mouth covers his neck, and she kisses away the sharp pain, which her teeth cause during their sensual exploration of his supple flesh. Michonne's nails claw a sinuous path beside his spine as her fingers dig in the defined muscle of his back, and her mouth creates a trail of fire on his breastbone. Michonne's tongue teases Rick's nipple, and she takes it in her warm mouth. He compensates her with a moan and a slap on her ass. The young woman hears the sound of his belt's buckle, and Rick opens a button of her jeans.

Michonne sucks and bites his nipples. When she moves to the other one, He recompenses her sensual caress by opening another button of her jeans, and He removes his belt. She runs her tongue in the sinuous division of his toned abdomen, and her tongue devotedly explores each protruded muscle. Michonne drags her nail down Rick's flank, and her fingers sink in his ribs. She clings to his shoulders, and her mouth continues to follow Rick's happy trail.

She stops at his groin, and she graces him with an incendiary look. Her wet tongue grazes her swollen lower lip, and Rick opens his zipper. His hands rest on her hips, and his knuckles graze the hem of her jeans' waistband. Slowly, with his blue eyes firmly on her visage, he undoes the last button of her jeans and pulls the offending denim down.

"All yours, princess." Rick drawls while he moves her lace panty aside and rubs her slits with his forefinger and middle finger.

Her feminine juice coats his digit, and he slowly pushes them into her core. Rick does not move his finger. Michonne lets out a plaintive moan, and she rocks her hips to create frictions. With the same slowness, Rick drags his fingers and allows it to graze her stimulated walls. It is enough to make her wet, but not enough to bring her gratification. With his free hand, he makes her face him and locks her into another sexually taunting stare. It is all about control, and the same control, which she tightly holds on. Rick's thumb rubs her engorged clitoris.

"Fuck...Rick." Michonne cries with abandon.

He covers her collarbone with more open-mouthed mouth kisses. The young woman has a tight grip on his nape, and Michonne's nails run along his back until she can hold on his firm ass. Her breath is heavy and saccade. Sweat runs down her contracted abdomen, and Michonne watches his finger move inside her.

"Fuck...," She cries louder when he presses on her clitoris until the pain becomes a blinding pleasure.

Rick pushes his finger in and out of her wet core until he feels her wall contracting. Her orgasm is on the tip of his fingers, and he stills his hand. Michonne's raw cry of frustration sounds like a plea. She knows he is punishing her by withholding her orgasm for not crying his name.

Slowly, he pulls inch after inch out of her vagina. She has enough time to feel the sudden emptiness, and her walls quiver with the need of him. Rick sucks Michonne's juice, and he moans at the sweet taste of her nectar.

He lowers his head and kisses her lips. Michonne tastes herself on him, and the salty taste of his mouth eventually overpowers her taste.

She lowers her head and takes what he so eloquently called her. Her hands wrap around her hardened manhood. Her thumb rubs the tip, and precum coat her finger. She puts her thumb in her mouth and sucks it. Michonne's tongue twirls over the tip of Rick' penis, and his grip on her hair tightens. She leisurely licks his entire length, and her mouth covers the head. Suavely, her mouth takes every inch of his long and thick dick while her hand strokes his balls.

Michonne's pulpous lips massage Rick's dick, and her tongue run along his length. Rick growls her name in reverence. Michonne's perfect hands circle his hard dick. The place where her mouth cannot reach, her hand rubs and squeezes. Her sharp nails graze the sensible engorged flesh. Michonne takes more of Rick's dick, and her tongue massages his penis.

"Oh fuck." Rick closes his eyes, and he breaks the rules.

Michonne stops sucking while her tongue continues to tease his dick. The young woman pulls Rick's hand out of her wet core. Michonne starts to rub her clitoris, and she teases Rick's senses with his name falling out of her in form of shallow whimpers.

"Eyes open, babe." She whispers in a hoarse voice, and another whimper leaves her lips when she pushes her slender fingers in her vagina.

Rick's dick jolt and throbs when she cries his name as she pushes her fingers deeper into her aching vagina.

"Watch me fuck myself the way you like to do it..." Michonne moves her fingers faster, and she parts her labia to allow Rick to have an enticing view her fingers sinking in her trembling walls.

"Close your eyes and I stop." The young woman lays her rules with a sweet voice and punctuates her demand by taking his entire penis in her mouth.

She gags for a second, as the thick engorged shaft pushes against the wall of her throat until they stretch.

"Princess... Babe... Chonne." Rick starts to lack vocabulary every time Michonne descends on his erected and throbbing manhood.

She sucks, licks, and moans. Rick is at the edge of insanity. He watches her delicate fingers penetrate her wet core as he would, deep and fast. Michonne rubs her clitoris, and when her mouth leaves his dick, she cries Rick's name like a fervent prayer to a pagan god. She is perfection, and she is a divine vision with sweat making her smooth skin glisten. If Michonne continues magisterially to fuck herself, he will not last long. The detective wants to close his eyes to enjoy the pleasure, which the friction of her tongue creates on his penis.

Sweet torture, the blood has left his brain to engorge his dick. Michonne pushes the entirety of her two digits in her pussy, and Rick watches in wonderment. His hips buckle forward when she gags on the size of his dick forcing its way to her throat's soft wall. Her onyx eyes keep him entranced. Rick can hardly keep with the rhythm, and he only can relinquish control for a few minutes.

Michonne is aware of his controlling side. She pulls out fingers from her vagina, and she presses them against Rick's lips. He sucks them clean and moans. Michonne continues to descend her mouth on his dick. Rick's legs tremble, and it is an encouragement to fondle his balls. She fully gulps his penis and releases it after a massage of her tongue. Michonne can feel the vein pulsating on her tongue. She knows that he is close to completion, and she knows what to say to push Rick from the edge.

"Fuck my mouth..." She says with a hoarse voice, which is the result of his dick wrecking her throat.

Rick leans down to take her lips between his, and he kisses her until the lack of oxygen threatens to push Michonne into a comatose state. She felinely slides down the bed and finishes on her knee. Rick returns his dick into the wetness and warmth of her mouth. He builds a steady rhythm, and he thrusts until his balls cannot retain his semen. He wants to pull out, but Michonne's teeth graze his throbbing dick.

Rick cannot prevent the explosion, and Michonne continues to suck him dry while he comes undone. The detective wonders if she wants to suck his soul out. His orgasm is overpowering, and it is a bone-crushing fall. Rick drags Michonne with down on the bed, and for a second, he suffers transient blindness. His orgasm is violent and disorienting.

…

…

…

….

Rick lifts Michonne's body until her juice-covered labia graze his lips. She moans when his tongue darts to taste her sweet nectar. He kisses her inner thighs.

"Sit, princess." He asks her to sit on his face and pushes her ass up.

Rick's tongue pushes through her slits, and he thrust in and out until his name becomes a raw cry, which Michonne throws in hope to receive mercy. He takes her erected clitoris in his mouth, and he interchangeably sucks and swirls his tongue. Michonne continues to cry Rick's name and a series of unknown curses, and his tongue makes her a linguist, which helps further English. She rides him with a hand firmly pressed on his chest while her other hand caresses her breast as he would.

Rick's tongue must spell the longest academic words against Michonne's pussy, and he dexterously brushes his tongue along her wet core. Michonne's legs start to tremble, and it is the only warning, which Rick receives before a shattering cry leaves Michonne's lips. Her sweet nectar coats his lips. Michonne's orgasm steals the air from her lungs, and she closes her eyes. She floats above her exhausted and glistening body.

The young woman has no recovery time, and Rick's effortlessly moves her down to his engorged dick. His aggressive thrust pushes her back into the bone-crushing sensation of her orgasm. The wonderful sensation of fullness, which Rick's thick manhood creates while he wrecks her contracting walls, sends her mind into a frenzy.

"Oh...babe." She desperately holds on his shoulders, and Michonne cries his name louder when he completely pulls his dick out to slam back aggressively into her throbbing core. Rick pulls out his dick, and she feels so empty. She blindly reaches for his engorged dick with a plea for more on her lips.

The tip of Rick's penis parts her slits, and he rubs the hardened shaft on her sensitive vagina. Michonne whimpers and places her hand around his wrist to keep him from pushing the limit of sensual torture. Slowly, he slides the head of his in her pussy, and he draws out when her labia grasp his flesh. His lips latch on her neck and Michonne moans when his teeth sink on the junction between her neck and her collarbone.

"Fuck me..." She begs when he withdraws his lips from hers.

Rick kisses her jaws, and he sucks on the bite mark, which he freshly left.

He strokes his thick penis while she eagerly watches him. Once again, Rick slides in her, but he only pushes four inches. Michonne feels him in her contacting core, but she wants more of his dick. From her understanding of the arrogant smile on Rick's swollen lips, he wants to hear a begging cry leave her lips.

Rick teases Michonne with a lazy back and forth hips' thrust. Michonne cries the detective's name louder to satisfy his ego. The sensation of fullness sends her body into the second wave of a crushing orgasm. Rick pushes his dick deeper into Michonne's wall, and she is so tight. She is so wet, and her hoarse sounds, which leave her mouth, empower him. Rick rests his head in the crook of her neck while he precisely thrusts in her core. His curls stick to Michonne's skin, and her scent engulfs his muscles.

Michonne pushes loose hair strands away from Rick's gorgeous face, and she passionately kisses him until his stroking rhythm falters. Michonne's legs tightly enclose Rick's hips, and she grinds to tease him. A soft suave chuckle slips from his lips. A shallow thrust and a swat on her ass answer her ministration. Michonne feels so full with his dick thrusting deeper into her, and if she places her hand on her stomach, she feels his dick move deeper into her. She squeezes his bare ass to encourage him to go faster. The young woman does not know how much of Rick's dick she can take, but she wants more of him.

Rick withdraws his dick and pushes it back into her tender core. He focuses on her g-spot with precise long deep strokes. The sound of their colliding pelvis grows louder while Rick's thrusts become rougher and harder. When Rick finds the spot, which makes her sing like a tenor, he mercilessly hammers it until Michonne becomes boneless in his arms. The young man curses and slows down his pace for both their sake. Her pussy tries to milk him dry with the random contraction. With her heels digging in his ass, she attempts to thrust his hips forward. Michonne gyrates her hips to match his thrusts. With her thumb and forefinger on his chin, Michonne lifts Rick's face and locks their eyes into an entrancing charm. He falters in his thrusts, and he loses himself in her. She has never looked into his eyes before during sex. He kisses her with abandon, and the words are on the tip of his tongue. Although, he is not ready to say it aloud nor is she ready to hear it. However, she can acknowledge it with her touch. With every long stroke, he hits her G-spot and drives her to the edges. His touches are no longer as aggressive, and there is a softness in Rick's touch.

His mouth assaults her erogenous zones until her plea for more becomes soft whimpers of satisfaction. Rick's left-hand start to caress her erected nipple while his right thumb presses and rubs her clitoris. Michonne's nails dig scars on his back. The undulations of their hips are a harmonious rumba to a lazy tempo. Sensual and suave mixed with deep or shallow, Rick always hits his target. The movement of their hips increases while he assaults her pulsating core. When Michonne's body starts to shiver under his caress, Rick emphasizes the rotation of his hips. Michonne cries his name, and her nails dig deeper into his back. The contraction of her walls tells him how close that she is to the deep end, and he knows how to push her to the other side.

"Come for me." He whispers while his hot breath caresses her feverish skin and cools it down.

Michonne gives in to his order, and she can barely breathe. Rick continues to thrust into her, and she is not sure how long they can go. However, Rick finds his release, and he switches position with Michonne. He does not want to crush her when he allows the wave of his orgasm to crush every muscle in his body. She moves his curls away and kisses his forehead. Michonne's arms surround his shoulder, and she is not sure that she wants to let go of Rick.

* * *

In the time, which their arrangement has lasted, Michonne never thought that she would once witness Rick Grimes post coitus ritual. Now, she sits on her side of the bed fascinated by his glow. There is no other way to put it. Rick Grimes, dangerous Mob boss has a post-coitus glow. She almost feels proud of herself. She can prevent the smile, which spreads on her lips when she notices the extra peps in his steps.

"This is strange." Rick points out at Michonne's expression while he slides back into his boxers.

He walks around the room and picks up his jeans. He drags out his packet of cigarettes and lights one. Rick grabs a bourbon bottle and fills two tumblers. He returns to the bed, and he pushes one toward Michonne.

"I don't drink." She tells him, and he drains her tumbler.

"I guess you don't smoke too." He punctuates his statement by blowing circles of smoke, but he extends his cigarette packet toward him.

"I mean you do it enough for the both of us." Michonne replies with sass, and Rick laughs.

"I was getting worried with that soft look. I almost thought you could tolerate me." Rick answered out of habit. He tries to diffuse what he considers being a sort of awkwardness.

Michonne openly staring at him is a strange thing. In truth, he expects her to bottle out of the bed. Rick no longer like to delude himself into false hope. With Michonne, it is a step forward and ten thousand backward. Now, he is patiently waiting for the haze to wash over. Although, she surprises him when she moves closer to his body. He cocks an eyebrow, and she answers him by placing her head on his shoulder. Rick freezes when she starts to run her hand on his bare chest. Did he hallucinate the entire sex and he continues to do so? Michonne notices his discomfort, and she does not know if she should be so familiar with Rick.

"You know I don't bite." She attempts to alleviate the atmosphere, and her joke falls flat. She finds herself chuckling awkwardly.

"Do you need me to do somethang, princess?" With growing paranoia, Rick questions her motives.

Michonne stares at Rick enable to produce a response, and she feels a sort of guilt. She draws a deep breath and returns to her side of the bed. Perhaps, they should stick to their routine, and she should not allow this farce to influence her. Playing house with Rick does not mean that there is more to their arrangement. Hiding behind amendments to their agreement should not make her forget about their relationship. She starts to high the door, and she can feel Rick's eyes on her. She inhales and tries to keep her head into reality. This little house in the suburb, the breakfast with him, and the intense sex are all a fantasy bound to end.

Michonne drags the bedsheet with her, and Rick bites his tongue not to make a comment, which may ruin the close to none progresses, which they made. Somehow, he knows how to remind her what she wants to protect. Michonne picks her underwear, and she quickly puts them. Although, she stops and stares at Rick with an intricate expression.

"I don't need a reason to fuck you." Frustrated and haunted by his previous question, she confesses part of the truth.

For a second, her admission surprises Rick. He draws as much smoke as he can from his cigarette. He needs the nicotine to soothe his nerves. A look at Michonne's posture and he knows that she about to force him to vocalize sentiment that he would prefer to keep buried.

"Well... That ain't news, Princess." Rick replies, and he toasts to her.

He finishes the remaining of his tumbler, and he considers taking the entire bottle. This woman can have the worse effect on his mood, and she needs a sigh to do it. How do common people trade with this kind of devotions for anyone? Rick cannot fathom the answers, but Michonne controls his mind. She makes him happy and angers him in the same breath.

"You're such an asshole," Michonne says with frustration, and she grabs her blouse from the floor.

"Again ain't nothing new to it." He drawls his answer.

As brilliant as she is, Michonne knows his defence mechanism. However, he knows how to infuriate her. He is aiming for anger, and she may as well give it to him. Now, she no longer knows what can satisfy Rick. She cannot explain why she feels the desire to satisfy him emotionally. Fury starts to cloud her mind, and words falter on her tongue. The pulls and push must end, but they are running around in an infernal circle.

"Why do you do this?" Emotionally exhausted, Michonne stares at Rick, and his answer is a depreciative laugh.

The woman has some iron balls, and Rick must admit it. She begs him to annihilate any feelings she may develop for him, and he shows her the worst side of him. However, she wants to question his action because he is wary of her affection. Rick takes a deep breath, and he chooses to ignore the question. There is a method to Michonne's madness. She will eventually walk away when she remembers how beneath her the mobster is. After all, she deserved her nickname.

"We don't work. It would not work." Once again, she surprises Rick.

He stares at her with poorly concealed anger, and progress with Michonne always announces disillusions for Rick. In some manner, she admits that they are more than bed partners, but she shuts them down in the same sentence.

"We? We?" He cannot continue to play mute.

"You and I." Michonne naturally dismisses his question.

She easily does it because she sees them as an item. A non-functional couple but they are a couple. Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, and he carefully thinks about his next words.

"What do you want, princess?" Somehow, her implication that they are a couple subdued Rick's growing anger.

Rick leans back on the bed, and he puts Michonne on a difficult spot. He knows that she will retreat after this question.

"You and that is a problem." She answers without faltering, and Rick chokes on cigarette smoke.

He expected cowardice, and she returned the situation on him. Rick stands from the bed, and he walked up to Michonne. He places his hand on her shoulder, and he kisses her forehead.

"You own me in the way that no one can." He lowers his head to take her lips between his, and he kisses with extreme softness.

Michonne tightly holds onto his body, and she kisses him with more abandon that she has ever done. Their lips move in symbiosis, and they break apart when the need for air arise.

"You're married." Michonne starts to list the reason why will crash and burn.

"People wake up married today divorce tomorrow. Some are married in the morning and lucky widower by night." Rick brushes his lips against hers.

"I don't think to kill your wife is the solution," Michonne says while she pulls away from his lips, and she does not want him to distract her.

"Well, I will divorce and lose some money in the process." Unbothered, Rick continues to dismiss her worry

"You're quitting your job too." Michonne attempts to show Rick how conflictual their lives are.

"Well, a police officer is not the greatest job in this world." He chooses to play dumb when he knows what she wants to say.

"Very funny..." Michonne swats his shoulder, but she offers him a smile.

"We could figure it out." Rick tries to compromise, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry, but it is not about what we want but what we can afford." Michonne says and as a reminder of their reality, they both hears Andre, who has returned from his adventure in the park.

"We will figure it out and let's focus on making sure that you survive these seven days." Rick holds her hand when she attempts to leave the room.

Michonne hopelessly smiles, and she wants to believe him. However, she is a pragmatic woman, and she should accept their fate. She kisses him, and he deepens the kiss. His nose grazes hers, and he stares into her eyes. It is almost non-existent, but there is enough to push Rick to fight for Michonne. He has enough hope to sustain them both.

Rick rests his forehead against hers, and he breaks their kiss.

"We can figure it out…" He takes her hand and places his wedding band in her palm.

"Andre…" Michonne escapes the enclave of Rick's arm with the excuse to go greet her son.

* * *

"We did not expect her to push back, but looking at you too, I may have to consider the approach." He says while he sits his baseball bat by his side.

A glance at his man and fury boils under the surface of his skin. That Michonne bitch had some iron balls, and she had the attention, which she requested.

Negan inspected Eugene's hand, and a bubbly laugh left his mouth. The young man next to him shrinks, and he glances up at his boss. Negan's laugh never announces anything good.

"You should seat Eugene, and I mean no need to shit your pants, I have no fork." He says while his hand runs along the handle of his baseball bat.

He laughs at his joke, and the rest of his men joins him. Afraid of his fate, Eugene look around, and he hesitates a second too long to sit down. A heavy hand closes on his neck, and they force him to sit.

"Better, I was getting torticollis staring at you up there. So before you make a mess on my leather sofa, I need you to tell me the truth." Negan says, and he takes his baseball bat. He swings it around for good measure.

"I...I... "Eugene cries out before he can finish his statement, and Negan pulls out Lucille from the young man kneecap.

"Bullshit...bullshit. Try it another time, and more than a fork will scare you." Negan chuckles as he watches the blood drips from the barbed wire. "What did you tell him, mullet?" The joyful tone has disappeared from Negan's voice.

He drags his bloody bat against the floor, and he aims from Eugene second kneecap.

"Everything about the books and Andrea... He wanted a photo of her... He wanted to know what the books were." Eugene's tongue loosens, and he speaks so much that Negan gets annoyed.

"Bring me a fork, and this bastard can shut up." He laughs and places Lucille back on a chair. "I'm kidding." He smacks Eugene's shoulder.

"So what did he told you," Negan asks Eugene who looks back at Simon, and Negan gets the message.

"There is no longer a kneecap to destroy, so..." He allows Simon's imagination to conclude the end of his statement.

"He wanted to leave you a message. Shane Walsh wants you to stay away from his woman and stop sending her dead body." Simon speaks before he can infuriate Negan.

"Who the fuck is Shane Walsh?" Negan asks, and he looks at his men expectantly.

There is no answer around him, and his hand starts to caress Lucille's handle. Silence is solemn, and no one dares to look at him.

"I will look into it boss, but his woman must be Michonne." Simon attempts to save his skin.

"Oh genius, we would have never figured it out." Negan laughs and he rises from his seats.

He closes the distance with Simon, and he menacingly hovers over his man. Negan places a hand on the man shoulder, and he squeezes until there is a wincing sound.

"You will do just that, by tomorrow I want to know what toilet paper Shane Walsh use. I want to know if he fucks his cute girlfriends with his pants down." He kicks into the knee, which Rick broke, and Simon falls to the ground.

"Now, do you believe Michonne prefer burger or fancy restaurants?" The question surprises the men around him.

However, Negan does not appreciate opposition, and Shane Walsh is ready to oppose him over Michonne. Mike Anthony stole from him over Michonne. To simplify, the bitch makes her man brave, and he wants to see what the fuss is.

"So any suggestion?"

* * *

After spending the rest of her day dodging Rick and taking care of Andre, Michonne has no choice but to face the man after her confession. It is an unusual sight, and she finds him going through police work. Sometimes, she needs a reminder that Rick has multiple life, and he manages perfectly to balance them. Years of living in duplicity, Michonne understands why he says that they can figure it out. She pushes the thought about them aside, and she checks on the picture, which he has laid on his desk. She looks away when she notices that it is Mike's murder. She deeply inhales, and Rick looks up to her.

"What is wrong, princess?" He questions and his affectionate tone has ceased to surprise Michonne.

Michonne delays her answer a second, and she reads the file on the table. She does not want to speak about them, and the young woman wants to recover from her cathartic confession. Consequently, she does something, which is natural to her. She decides to put her beautiful brain to use, and as a criminal attorney, she may be of help to Rick. She picks the files, and she puts the pictures away. It does not matter what Mike did in the end, and she would never enjoy the sight of his dead body.

"I was thinking about Mike." She ultimately answers Rick's question.

He lowly growls after her statement, and he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. The detective lights it, and he glances at Michonne.

"Find a girlfriend for that shit. When you want to fuck, I will be here." Rick says while he pushes a file away from him.

Three hours through this paperwork, he cannot find something substantial. Martinez sent Andrea's file, and the inaccuracies are blatant. For his experience, Rick can recognize the work of a cop faking his work. These files are a mess, and he may need to watch Martinez and his partner, Merle.

Michonne rolls her eyes at his statement, and she picks the file, which he discarded. She slowly looks through it and takes the pen from his hand to surround inaccurate details.

"So I was saying about Mike." She ignores his glare and Rick chuckles at her nonchalant attitude.

"The days, when I used to terrorize you, are long gone." He says with an almost regretful tone, but he offers her his attention.

"Yeah, you're such a teddy bear..." Michonne teases him, and Rick cannot help but laugh when he discovers a new side to her.

"Nice try…" He says and takes back his pen from her hand.

They go silently through the files, and Michonne glances from the corner of her eyes. This man would be so easier to love. He smirks when he catches her staring, and he taps her forehead with his pen.

"So Mike." Michonne starts with seriousness, and her hand stops on a special page on the file, which she was reading.

"Twist the knife, Princess," Rick says, but he stops to listen to her.

"He will offer me many gifts, and that was his thing with women." Rick nods to show that he is listening, and Michonne continues to expose her case. "He will buy expensive things, which his accountant salary couldn't afford, and take me too expensive trips. Now that I know where the money comes from..." His voice interrupts her, and she rolls her eyes to oblivion.

"So now, you want properly to thank me." He says with a wink while he runs his hand over his dick.

Michonne swats his hand, but she laughs, which she assumes was his intent. As she started to brush her past with Mike, she became uncomfortable. She draws a deep breath, and she continues to share her thoughts with him.

"He couldn't use cash to buy those things, and they came with insurance. He would not use his normal account for it. Maybe he did the same with his mistress. Follow the money, and you may find her." Michonne finishes, and Rick looks at her in a way, which makes her blush.

"Come here." His voice drops, and he taps on his lap to indicate where he wants her.

It is the second that she has the next move for his detective work. Michonne sits on his laps, and Rick rearranges her in a way, which she ends up facing him. He rests his head on her chest, and he breathes her scent.

"That is brilliant, but his mistress is supposedly a dead FBI agent." He hits her with an obstacle, and he places the file in her hand.

"Dead?" She sceptical asks.

"Missing?" Rick corrects, and he kisses her neck.

It is a miracle that she is not distracted, and her intelligence is a major turn on for Rick.

"So in hiding?" She draws the appropriate conclusion, and he rewards her with another kiss on the curvature of her neck.

"Yeah..." He drawls while his thoughts are straying toward her, and the thing, which he can do to her while she solves crimes for him.

"Family? Husband, child..." Michonne questions him, and she glares at him when he shows more interest in her lips than the file she shoves against his chest.

"Why?" He questions her as he checks Andrea's file, and he reads the page, which she marked.

"You thought Mike would come back for me. Why?" Michonne answers with a question.

"Because I would come back for you." Rick instinctively answers

"You wouldn't abandon me." She confidently says, and she absentmindedly pecks his lips.

"Yeah, I ain't stupid..." Rick does not dare to say the words, but they know what he would say.

"She may love someone too. She has someone, who she can't abandon or someone refuses to let go of her. If someone is looking for her, it makes it hard to play dead." Michonne finishes and Rick reads the name, which she circled.

"She has a sister." He does not need to hear more, and he grins at her.

"So I follow the money, and you talk to the sister," Michonne says while she attempts to leave his lap.

Her body has not recovered from their earlier tryst, and he is looking at her in that same way, which incinerate her panties. Rick keeps her put on his laps, and she sighs.

"What about you stay put and hidden?" He dismisses her offer to help with the rest of the case.

"Sasha is getting bored of babysitting, and I'm not helpless." Michonne indignantly counters.

She would visit a bank what can be so dangerous. The threat said seven days, and it is merely day three. Checking Mike's accounts would help advance the situation.

"Well, I don't give a fuck. If anythang happen to you..." She interrupts him before he can mention how willing he is to kill for her.

Although, she starts to find his dangerous side endearing.

"Okay, I will stay put." She reluctantly agrees, and Rick glances at her.

He can smell the lies all over that statement, and he voices it.

"You're a poor liar."

 **I know this chapter has too much smut. Sorry**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the review, and here is the update**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

 **Please, reviews**

* * *

 **Chapter x: Tumultuous Tuesday…**

* * *

 **Sunday 12: 30 p.m.**

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The sun highlights Andrea's blonde locks, and she wears large sunglasses to shield her eyes from the blinding sun. She raises the rooftop of the Cabriolet, which Mike gave her, and Andrea feels nostalgic. Mike was a great pet, and he was loyal to her. The accountant was notably naive, but he had his merits. Unfortunately, Andrea had to sacrifice him. Survival requests a few sacrifices and some collateral damages.

Andrea did not plan to betray Mike. In truth, she did not plan brutal treason. She wanted to disappear with the money, which he stole from Negan. Andrea never meant Mike's death, but the Saviors found her. Cornered and afraid, she had to improvise. When Negan found her, she had to think fast, and Mike was the obvious choice. Loyal and gullible, he was the perfect sacrifice. She did not regret her choice. Andrea had a mission, and she accomplished it.

However, her partner may question her means. Andrea's forefinger goes on her neck, and she caresses the platinum pendant around it. The Saviors' book safely secured around her neck, and she feels at peace with her actions. They ultimately have the last cartel's book, and they can openly attack the major players in the mob world. Her partner will forgive her for straying away from the plan. Fucking Negan was a difficult task, but the plan is worth the sacrifice.

Andrea looks at the passenger seat, and two heavy bags rest there. She could not empty Mike's side accounts, and she only discovered the one, which he had in America. Andrea's biggest regret is not recovering the entirety money, and it could finance the war, which they want to start.

When Andrea notices her partner's tall frame, she swerves the car out of the main road. He waits for her on the side of the road as he promised, and Andrea's heart beats faster. She stops her car and rushes to him. Andrea jumps in his welcoming arms, and her mouth assaults his lips. She missed his taste, and so she drinks from his lips with eagerness.

"Someone missed me." He chuckles, and his rich voice fills Andrea's ears.

Smoothly, he puts Andrea down, and he starts to look her. Judgement fills his eyes, and he immediately assesses her.

"The Saviors were not supposed to catch up with us, Philip." Andrea starts to explain before her boyfriend points out her mistake.

Philip Blake hates nothing as much as he hates a plan, which deviates from its original intents. Mike Anthony should not have died. His murder prompted the Police's involvement, and as a result, it complicates the situation.

"I understand. You needed to think as fast as you could, darling." Philip calmly replies, and he runs his hands along Andrea's arms.

He kisses her lips to placate her anxiety, and his hands rest on her shoulders. However, Philip believes that it is not Andrea's role to think. Her judgement is poor. Mike's death was a wrong move.

"But you don't like the police's involvement. I'm sorry for deviating from the initial plan, but I have what we wanted." Andrea starts to appease him, and Philip's calm demeanour means little to his true mental state.

Philip's hand goes to the necklace around Andrea's neck, and he appraises the delicate jewellery. He holds in his hand the work of many years, and he can move forward with his vision for Atlanta. Philip no longer needs to hide in the shadows.

"The police are not our biggest problem, but we may have accidentally reveal ourselves too early to our adversaries. I shared my suspicions with you. Because of Mike's death, we can no longer hold back on our next move nor can we plan it. Alexandria is next." Philip uses the word we, but he beforehand decided who carried the blame for this failure.

He does not want to scare Andrea. She knows how he deals with those who deviate from the plan. She may continue to be of use to him, and so her fate hangs on details. Although, Philip has his suspicions about the Alexandria's leader, and he might be a police officer. If anyone looks deeper into Mike's death, the truth about his enterprise will surface. A few names are surfacing, but he only knows the names of the detectives on the case. Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh, Philip needs to approach them. He might have to use similar tactics to the ones, which used on Negan. Philip looks at Andrea, and she can be of use to seduce either Rick or Shane. The Mike Anthony's case needs to disappear. He cannot draw the attention of Alexandria.

Philip's phone vibrates in his pocket, and he disentangles his body from Andrea's one. He glances at the bright screen, and the daylight prevents the words to be visible. He closes his hand around the screen, and he starts to read.

"Fuck." When he finishes reading the message, Philip curses.

"What is going on?" Andrea inquires with a hint of panic.

Philip Blake hardly curses, and when he does, the circumstances require crudity. Andrea's fate is uncertain, and she must be careful. However, she is oblivious to Philip's thought. A lover's faith is blind and naive.

"Martinez has some interesting news." He does not expend, and Philip places an arm around Andrea's shoulders.

"Bad news." She wants to know more, and Philip's answer is a closed smile.

"Interesting news." He says in a tone, which leaves no space for more to be said.

...

...

...

...

 **Sunday 11: 45 p.m.**

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 **:**

 **Keep an eye on him, and monitor his progress. What is his name?** Philip ultimately replies to Martinez's message when he successfully escapes Andrea.

 **Rick Grimes.** The answer immediately comes, and Philip stares at the name one of the lead detectives in Mike Anthony's murder case **.**

Many thoughts cross Philip's mind, and Rick must fit in his plan. Philip does not like a free player in his game, and he hates uncontrollable variables. Everyone in the game must assume an assigned position. He angrily stares at Andrea, who sleeps next to him. The deviation to the plan results in chaos.

 **Should we recruit Rick Grimes?** The question is almost rhetorical.

Philip wants a tight control on that murder case, and Rick Grimes can be the perfect candidate to help him achieve that. He could deceive him with the dream, which he sold Andrea. He will promise Rick a better life, and maybe he will add Andrea as part of the deal. He needs to find a new use of the blonde, and he hates the increasing number of free players. Now, Andrea is expendable to Philip.

 **He is a cop by the book, Governor.** Martinez replies and he looks around to check Rick's note about Andrea. He never foresaw Rick connect Andrea to Anthony's murder case.

 **It makes him the perfect candidate. If he gets too close to Andrea, he will become a danger to us.** Philip muses, and he questions Martinez on Rick's progress **.**

 **Should we just take care of him?** The reply is naive, and Philip knows why he is the brain of the operation **.**

Who takes care of a potentially useful pawn to save one, which no longer is of use? Andrea is no longer worth the efforts to protect her. Rick is a way to access Mike's murder case.

 **He could be useful, and she is no longer of use. Keep an eye on Rick's progress.** He texts back **.**

 **Okay, boss.** Martinez raises his eyes to peer at Rick's desk.

The governor stares at a sleeping Andrea, and he starts to plan his next move. She had to deviate from the plan, and Philip regretfully sighs. Now, he must come to term with punishing Andrea and fixing her mistake. He leans to kiss her bare back, and Andrea turns to face him.

"You're awake." She mumbles while he covers her lips with his.

"I needed to think about your mistake." Philip simply replies while his knee parts Andrea's legs, and he aligns his manhood with her wet core.

"And?" She questions with her mind half to it while his hands explore her body.

"I haven't come to a suitable conclusion." He says while he pushes his dick into her welcoming sheath.

Philip doesn't think that she will be in a mood for a tryst if she knows of the suitable conclusion. Philip discards anything unprofitable before it turns into a loose end. Now, Andrea is a loose end. Her fate rests on how brilliant Rick Grimes can be, which is unfortunate.

* * *

 **Tuesday around 1 p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

"Maybe you need to divorce." Shane's voice comes out weak.

He is exhausted, and he recently pulled out of a coma. Each muscle of his body aches and renders him weak. Shane can hardly breathe, and he is not alert of his surroundings. They secured an IV to his arm, and the constant flow of morphine does not help with the precision of his mind.

Lori doesn't take into consideration any of these factors. Four hours after emerging from his coma, Shane Walsh has to suffer through the most dreadful conversation, and the topic is Rick Grimes. The other detective is always the centre of attention. The circumstance does not matter, and people always care about Rick.

Drugged with an unclear mind, Shane does not want to hear about the woes of his lover's marriage, but Lori does not care for his comfort. Now, he is awake, and she has someone to talk about the tragedy, which her marriage is. She watched him for several days, and Shane should have the courtesy to be sympathetic to her pain. She is losing Rick, and she must do something about the situation.

"You're his best friend, and you should talk to him. Rick is no longer the same man. You've no idea how he talks to me. I can't lose him over some bimbo. I can't have my family broken because he wants to fool around." Lori ignores Shane's mumbled statement.

Shane will love to ignore her rant, and he wants to sleep. He said his piece, but Lori rejects reason. She refuses to choose him over Rick Grimes.

The young woman does not care for Shane's advice, but she requires his help to control her husband. Shane is Rick's best friend, and his words weighted on the decisions, which her husband took. Without the broken ribs and the sore knee, Shane would laugh at Lori's hypocrisy. The woman has no respect for him, and for years, he denied it. Shane is a stubborn man, and he often disregards truths, which do not favour his agenda.

If Rick can obtain this arrogant woman's love, Shane wants to be able to do the same. The situation is less about Lori and more about Rick. In the moments of rare lucidity, Shane examines his actions. Does he love Lori or does he want a victory on his best friend? The answers to his question are never ones, which he acknowledges. He spent many years in a competition, where he is the only participant.

Shane stares at Lori. Lori is pretty with her long brown hair, her soft features, and her brown eyes. She is the girl next door, and to fall for her charms is easy. However, she is also selfish, insane, and a list of pejorative adjectives. Many years spent chasing after her, and Shane no longer cares if he loves her. He wants to win. He wants to prove to everyone, who does not care that he can be better than Rick Grimes.

"I will talk to him." Exhausted and unwilling to listen to more complaints, Shane lies.

After two hours long speech on why she can't lose her husband, Shane regrets his comatose state. He would not have to suffer through another glorification of Rick. If Rick is so great, why does she seek the warmth of his arms? Obviously, Shane knows the answer, and it infuriates him. Rick is not available for Lori, and Shane is a cheaper replacement. Nothing ever changes, and Rick continues to be the better option. Shane is solely a consolation prize.

Lori's voice starts to give Shane a headache, and he may as well return to his comatose state. How did his entire life become this fuckery? Shane can blame his best friend for monopolizing success and attention. Now, Shane can add a Negan to the list of the people, who complicates his life.

Negan, Shane's mind held onto the name. The traumatic event played back in his mind while his body fell into an artificial coma to speed up his recovery. Shane does not know a bastard named Negan, but he intends to reply to the message. After meticulous calculations, the detective thinks this entire affair is in orbit with the Mike Anthony's murder case. The mobster approach linked to his assault and the need to leave a message are unmistakable clues. To think that the men, who attacked him would send a cadaver in a box to Michonne is not far-fetched. He needs to remove Michonne from his suspect list, but Michonne wounded his ego. No one is more vindictive than a cop, who often abuses his power. Shane needs to prove to the bitch that he deserves some respect for his position. If he cannot do it through her husband's murder, Shane will discover another way.

His thoughts run to how beautiful Michonne is, and he remembers how she proudly disrobed when he requested her nightgown for forensic. She is gorgeous, and he might as well show Michonne that he can own her. When the time comes to leave this hospital bed, Shane will have his work cut for him. Rick Grimes, Michonne Anthony, and Negan are on his target list.

Shane draws a deep breath and focuses on what Lori says to him. Finding her by his bedside was a pleasant surprise until she opened her mouth. Now, he wants her gone, but she insists on pursuing this conversation about Rick. Shane draws another deep breath, and he looks outside the windows. The world outside owes him a lot, and he will collect everything.

"As I said, I will talk to him. If you came here to ask me to save your marriage, congratulation, I'm on board. Now, I need the fucking rest, and you can go." Shane reaches his limits, and his words ooze with venom.

The words are crude and strong enough to surprise Lori. She glares at Shane, but she needs him. Consequently, she swallows her abrasive answer and starts to fake the contrite act. Lori takes Shane's hand, and tears miraculously find their way to her eyes.

"I have been here since they brought you in. Day and night, I was here. No one but me came to see you. Not your best buddy Rick. No one. I was worried and broke out in tears in this same room. I'm not here to talk about Rick, but I'm here for you. No one else is here for you, nor does anyone care for you." Lori's voice breaks at the words, which she needs to emphasize, and she reminds Shane that he needs her at some extents.

Lori tightly squeezes Shane's hand, and she wipes the tears falling on her cheek. In her contrition act, Lori continues to stare at him with a devotion, which he always wanted her to give to him. Shane softens, and he whispers an apology. Lori knows how to manipulate him. The woman forces on the tear flow, and she understands Shane's pitiful hunger for affection.

"I may not be good at showing it, but I love you in my way." The words smoothly come out of her mouth, and Lori leans down to kiss Shane.

She provides him passion and desperation in one kiss. Lori presses her lips against his while she wants to silence his complaints. When she hears steps coming closer to the door, Lori immediately pulls away from Shane.

"I care about you." She whispers when the door opens, and Lori does not withdraw her hand from Shane's hold.

Holding Shane's hand does not incriminate Lori. If it helps her situation, she will allow Shane to believe that she wants to go public affection. However, Lori does not expect Rick to enter the room. Rick's eyes lay on Shane and Lori's joined hands, and he does not react. Although, he does not resist his petty impulses.

"Am I interrupt your little moment?" As she recognizes her husband's voice, Lori trembles.

Lori promptly wipes off her false tears, and she viciously snatches her hand from Shane's grip. Reality regains its rights, and Shane has to face it. Rick Grimes continues to be the obstacle.

...

...

...

...

Apart from Rick's steps, the room is silent for a few seconds. Rick walks around Shane's bed, and he nonchalantly sits on the sofa inside the hospital room. He stares at the pair in front of him, and the intensity of Rick's stare increases Lori's discomfort. The existence of shame in his wife surprises Rick.

" He woke up," Lori states the obvious, and Rick cocks an eyebrow.

" That's a good thang. Now, you can remove your nurse costume and go home. I'm judging anyone kink." Rick drawls, and he waits for Lori to take the hint to leave.

When she does not move, Rick blatantly stares at the door. Lori stubbornly refuses to move, and she wears an indignant expression. Lori draws a deep breath, and she prepares for an argument with her husband.

"Rick?" Offended by his clear disrespect, Lori wants to question his change in personality.

Rick crosses his arms, and he sinks in the sofa, where he sits. The last thing that Rick wants is to argue with Lori, but he has no choice in the matter. Consequently, he sits comfortably and braces his mind for the worst.

"Lori?" He deadpans.

"Can you show more concern for your best friend?" Lori fights the need to raise her voice, and Rick defiantly leans closer to Shane.

"How are you feeling, buddy?" He emphasizes every word, and he returns to his initial position.

"Rick?" Lori calls for him with a tone, which announces her growing fury, but Rick chooses to ignore her.

Unfortunately, Rick discovers that infuriating her has lost its appeal. Therefore, he decides to focus on Shane. Rick needs to know if his plan worked. Suddenly, he drags his officer friendly's personality to the surface.

"Don't you ever do another thang like this to me, brother. You got us worried. How are you feeling?" Rick says with a tone, which mimics sincerity.

He looks at Shane, and Rick wishes Daryl and Tyrese went harder on him. Why did he have a guilty conscience? Michonne makes him a softy.

"As if a truck ran over me." Shane answers between coughs and Rick restrains his desire to say that they should have left him in a worse state.

"The fuckers came after you. I have been working crazy hours trying to find them. I almost thought that I would lose my best friend. My wife was happy playing nurse though." He fails to keep the last sentence, and he winks at Lori.

Shane has the decency to feel guilty. Rick attempts to relax, and he needs to locate the pressure points, which will make Shane speak. The trust between both men disappeared through the years, but Rick needs an inside of his partner's mind. Now, it is a game of precision. Rick needs a great control of his pawn, and he can't achieve it without Shane's trust in him.

" They did not want to kill me..." Shane answers, but he does not elaborate, which slightly frustrates Rick.

"How do you know?" He presses the issue, and Shane's look strays to Lori.

Rick forgot about his wife's presence, and so he silently swears. The two detectives focus on Lori, and she moves on her seat with slight discomfort.

"Lori, can you give us a minute?" Shane asks, and Lori does not want to comply.

Lori does not trust Shane. The fool may feel compelled to reveal their affair to Rick. She has not missed the signs of guilt on Shane's face every time Rick takes a jab at her.

"I...Are you sure?" Lori's voice carries a subtle request for Shane to cancel his demand.

"If he has a sudden attack, I will call the qualified staff." Rick decides to shorten the exchange.

He walks up to the door and opens it for Lori

...

...

..

..

...

Rick returns to the sofa, which he previously occupied. Shane stares at him with an unreadable expression, and Rick wonders if his partner wants to play Lori's knight in a shining armour. Obviously, Shane is a designated captain save a hoe.

"You don't have to be so rude with her." Shane sighs, and Rick answers with an eye roll, which he stole from Michonne's book.

Rick doesn't have the time for a pointless conversation. He wonders where Shane and Lori find their audacity. He bites his tongue to stop a petty comment. Rick crosses his arms. He nonchalantly spreads his body on the sofa.

"Hmmm..." Rick noncommittally offers, and he pulls a packet of cigarette out of his pocket.

Shane stares at his best friend with a hint of surprise. He has started to notice Rick's behavioural changes, and as the days pass, the changes are more blatant. Now, the goody-two-shoes is about to smoke inside a hospital room.

"Rick?" Shane questions and Rick doesn't look into his direction.

However, he puts back the cigarette in his pocket.

"You wanna play counsellor for lost cases like Lori and I. The morphine is that good." Rick drawls, and his nonchalant posture portrays his lack of care for his present marital situation.

"No, I'm in no state to deal with your fuckery." Shane retreats, and he questioningly stares at Rick, who answers with a defiant smirk.

"Great, I don't care enough to talk about it, and so what were you saying." Rick directs the conversation away from his private life.

"A fucking message. The Anthony's murder case is a shit hole. Fuckery perpetually crawls out of it." Shane says, and Rick takes in the statement.

He prefers to play dumb, and Rick wants to know if Shane believes the scenario, which he created to keep him busy. Rick needs to know if the Negan angle can hold.

"We have nothang on the murder..." Rick points out, and he knows what Shane hides from him.

"Yeah...We have nothing " Shane does not want to admit that he hid information from his partner.

Lying is pointless because Rick planted everything, which Shane has on the case. Everything comes back to the trust, and Shane is a difficult pawn.

"It does not sound like nothang. I ain't have the time to play those games, Shane. If you're hiding shit from me, you need to remember whoever is after you will come after me, Lori, and Carl." Rick presses on the issues, but he knows what Shane hides.

"Alright...I found the murder scene." Shane gives up at the mention of Lori, and Rick feigns offences.

He needs a way to allow his anger to flow. Rick has an idea of why Shane kept the information, and he does not appreciate it. From all his range of emotions, Rick always does a poor job at controlling his jealousy. Shane's motives are evident. Rick has not missed the way with which Shane looked at Michonne. He is not paranoid.

"Why you ain't told me shit about it." Rick forces himself to calm down, and he itches to have the soothing effect of nicotine to help.

"Michonne," Shane confirms Rick's suspicions, and the other man has to hold on the sofa.

Rick's eyes follow Shane in a predatory manner. He grinds his teeth and reminds himself to play his part. Shane does not have a chance with Michonne. He could spend his days crawling at Michonne's feet, and she wouldn't acknowledge the dust under her shoes before she does his existence.

" Michonne, who is Michonne," Rick asks with a false innocence, but he has already fallen out of his officer friendly character.

His tone fails to mask his anger, and Shane takes note. The murderous look is hard to ignore, and Rick's attack posture betrays his agitated state.

"Yeah... Don't act as if she isn't engraved in your mind. That fucking beauty and you saw as much as I saw." Shane does not have the ability to pinpoint Rick's new attitude, and he helps feed Rick's growing animosity.

"Shane..." Rick tries and fails to keep his tone neutral.

"A fucking suspect Shane." Rick hisses, and he felinely rises from the sofa.

One wrong word and he will finish what his men started. The idea that Michonne fills Shane's thoughts does not sit well Rick. He draws a deep breath, and he slowly talks himself out of his raging anger.

"You didn't have a problem with it when you had clothed sex with her in front of the entire department. Is she another thing that yours only?" Shane bitterness resurfaces, and he can't help the jealousy, which coats his words.

It was less than few minutes, but Michonne was receptive to Rick. She didn't look at Rick as if he was dirt on her shoe. She allowed him to touch her. Is Rick better than he is?

"It's better to focus on what you hide from me." Rick voices his thoughts.

"The crime scene ruled her out as a suspect." Shane takes the hint, and the way Rick hover over his bed frightens him.

"So?" Rick pushes for more answers.

Morbid curiosity, he needs to know how far Shane wants to push it with Michonne. Does he become an immediate target or does he continue to play his role of a pawn? Now, Rick is tempted to take him out of the equation. He does not need nor does he want to deal with a Shane potentially obsessed with Michonne. Aside from his jealousy, Shane can become dangerous for Michonne.

"You were there. You saw how she talked to me as if I was dirt on her pompous designer shoes. So I wanted her to sweat it for a bit, and it would knock her down of her fucking horse." Shane answers, and his answer puts Rick on alert.

All his efforts to remain controlled are futile. Rick moves away from Shane as the temptation to choke the life out of him grows. He needs something to do with his hands.

"Stay away from her. I know you, and this is a bit too far even for you." Rick warns, and his tone delivers the proper message.

"Anyway..." Shane decides to ignore the warning.

"Stay away from her. I mean it." Rick insists, and the verbal threats are on the tip of his tongue.

"She no longer matters. I have bigger fishes to fry. I need you to look into a Negan." Shane bows down of the conversation, and the way with which Rick stares at his IV drip is an incentive.

"Negan?" Rick jumps on the occasion to silence his aggressiveness with a neutral topic.

Another mention of Michonne and he will push that morphine drip to its highest. He may enjoy Shane drifting in slow overdose. The thought is oddly calming.

"He is behind this. Watch out for Dixon too," Shane answers, and his words finally hold Rick's attention.

"Dixon?" He is genuinely surprised by the mention of Merle.

"His younger brother was there, and the way with which he handled Anthony's disappearance case. Man, I looked at the file before, and I know my shit. He sabotaged that investigation." Shane explains, and Rick can only agree.

There is something shady about Merle, and Rick wants to look into it. Merle also handled Andrea's disappearance, and Rick never saw more poorly done report. There is no coincidence in his world.

"Alright, I will look into it, and next time, don't hide important details from me because you want to fuck a suspect," Rick says, and he can't help but brush the topic of Michonne again.

"It ain't like that." Shane tries to refute the accusation, but the malice in his eyes is hard to miss.

"Yeah... Stay away from Michonne." Rick insists, and he squeezes Shane's hurt knee.

Rick needs the relief although he pretends that it is accidental.

"You sound jealous." Shane points out, and Rick does not contradict him.

"You sound obsessed. Nothang good can come out of it." Rick counters and his last sentence is a promise.

Forgotten is his guilty conscious. Shane's potential obsession with Michonne is nothing that he can allow to prosper. Although, he can use it to control his partner. It does not work that way with Rick. When he sees a threat, he needs to neutralize it.

"Alright..."

* * *

 **Tuesday around 2: 45 p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

Michonne almost makes it to the door, but the click of her heels against the floor betrays her. Sasha stops watching Andre and focuses on her. She puts Andre down, and Sasha closes the distance between Michonne and her.

"Where are you going, Princess?" She questions with a teasing tone, and she carefully puts herself between Michonne and the door.

Rick informed her that Michonne might attempt to sneak out. Sasha hates her babysitter's role. With a stubborn person like Michonne, it is more frustrating. Sasha crosses her arms, and she leans against the door. Michonne should take the hint and abandon her idea of leaving the house.

"The bank," Michonne answers, and she expects Sasha to free her path.

"It is not happening," Sasha replies with an acidic sweetness.

She can't believe that Rick wastes her skills on this amateur task. She should be on the field like Tyrese and Daryl. They get to assault a police officer, and she takes Andre to the park so Rick can fuck in peace. Although Sasha adores Andre, she has a harder time with the kid's mom.

"What?" Michonne asks with indignation, and she tries to bypass Sasha.

Sasha easily stops her, and she moves Michonne further away from the door. Michonne wants to shout in frustration. Clearly, Rick Grimes will keep her prisoner inside this house.

"The boss didn't clear it with me," Sasha replies, and she challenges Michonne to insist.

"Since when Rick decides what I can do or where I can go?" Michonne answers with frustration, and Sasha blatantly mocks her indignation.

She stares at Michonne with a facial expression, which reveals her incredulity. Does Michonne know the man, who she is dating? If Rick could control the amount of oxygen going through Michonne, he will do it to protect her from any harm.

"Did he forget to hand you the rulebook when you decided to play house with him?" Sasha deadpans.

"I don't care about his rules," Michonne replies, and she again attempts to bypass Sasha.

Michonne's attempt ends in another failure, and the situation starts to frustrate Michonne. She wants to help with the investigation, but Rick has to complicate everything. Mike's finances need an examination, but Rick wants to lock her inside the house.

"I care...We don't all get away with murder just for fucking Rick. That is the princess' treatment." Sasha tells Michonne, and the other woman frowns at the implication.

"All I'm saying is that Rick will have my head while he continues to trail behind you like a lovesick puppy." Sasha decides to correct her statement.

"It is a trip to the bank," Michonne pointlessly repeats her previous statement.

"Rick didn't approve." Sasha does not budge on her stance.

"Rick isn't my dad. I don't have to clarify where I go with him first, and he can't make me a prisoner." Michonne's stubbornness is futile, but she needs to vent.

Sasha appears the right person to listen, and Michonne believes she is in great need of a friend. She needs to put Rick's advice to use and find a girlfriend.

"Did you have this conversation with Rick before or after you called him daddy?" Sasha teases her when she notices that Michonne has accepted her fate. The heels are coming off, and Michonne is walking toward Andre.

"I don't call him daddy." She rolls her eyes and Sasha smiles at her rebuttal.

"Whatever you call him doesn't change much to the situation." Sasha counters and she returns her attention on Andre.

"Sasha." Michonne whines, and Sasha sighs.

"Do you know how dangerous it is for you outside? Do you know what will happen if Rick's princess is hurt? I'm not risking it, Michonne." Sasha concludes with a no-nonsense tone.

"It's just a trip to the bank," Michonne says without conviction.

"You want to go behind his back," Sasha says, and she wants to end the conversation.

"I'm not trying to go behind anyone's back, and I don't need anyone's permission," Michonne argues, and Sasha blatantly laughs.

They both know that Rick needs to approve of Michonne's movements.

"You need to have this conversation with Rick. The orders are clear." Sasha says, and she starts to tease Andre until the toddler laughs.

"If my safety is the problem, you should come with me." Michonne attempts to compromise.

"Against the orders and I'm babysitting Andre," Sasha replies, and she makes space on the couch so Michonne can seat.

Michonne drops on the sofa, and she envisions her argument with Rick.

* * *

 **Tuesday around 3: 35 p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

Lori waits for Rick at the exit of Shane's room, and at the sight of her, Rick's anger returns. He sighs, and he attempts to bypass her. She holds Rick back by his elbow, and he reluctantly stops to listen to what Lori wants to say.

"Where are you going?" Lori asks, and Rick sighs at her predictability.

"Away from you." He deadpans and moves around her after snatching Lori's hand from his elbow.

For a second, he shocks Lori. In the last days, she can't recognise the man, who she married. This new assertive Rick holds her attention, and it will make the loss greater. She runs after him with no intent to give up. She ultimately catches up with Rick in the underground parking.

"Can you stop for a minute, Rick? We need to talk." She slides between the driver door and him.

For a second, Rick stares at Lori, and he wonders what paths led them to this moment. Without Michonne will he be so off-put by Lori's existence. The liaison between Shane and her bothered him, but it was not an incentive to end everything. However, he made a promise to Michonne. Rick passes his thumb in the space where his band used to be, and he feels no regrets.

"We need to try for Carl." Lori's voice reclaims his mind attention, and Rick emerges from his introspection.

Rick steps back to have a complete view of Lori. He also needs the distance to control his emotions. Carl? He probably heard her wrong.

"Oh, Carl?" He questions with a wondering voice, and Rick's tone mocks Lori.

He wore the mask too long around Lori, and she must believe that he is an unobservant fool. Michonne is not the only reason why Rick wants to divorce. He may be an absentee father, but Rick is observant.

"Yes, your son, who will not recover if we decide to break thing up because of your insecurities and infidelities." Lori believes that she has found the perfect pressure point.

Carl, Rick adores his son, and she has never doubted it. She hopes to manipulate that affection.

"So he is no longer grown enough to handle his shit." Rick questions and throws back at her words of their previous conversation in this same hospital.

Lori blinks, but she does not lose her determination. She has given the situation a great thought, and she has no way out of this mess. Lust misguided Rick and his mistress must influence his opinion. Lori knows her husband to be a gullible person. If Rick is angry with her, Carl remains the safety shield to hide behind.

"Being an absent father is no longer enough for you, and you want to walk out of his life." She pressures, and Lori goes for the jugular.

She attacks a sensitive topic, and she prays that the guilt will help Rick to reason. Lori is not losing her husband to a bimbo. Rick comes with a comfortable lifestyle.

"You're insane." Rick humorlessly chuckles.

Exhaustion starts to appear. Rick tries to avoid a prolonged time with Lori. He is never too long in her presence, and it is for the best. He lacks the patience for such a scene, and she is always able to create one.

"Am I insane for pointing out the truth?" Lori's voice rises, and she can no longer control her temper.

She admits that she may be unable to reason with Rick. Conceivably, she redirects her effort to make him fall in line. Threats and anger were efficient for long, but those years have passed. Rick is no longer a malleable man, who will try to fulfil her wish because he wants to avoid a fight.

"No, you're insane for thinking that you can guilt trip me into staying with you." Rick deadpans, and he finally shoves her away from his car.

Lori does not intend to bow down. She does not care if this is a parking, and she does not care for the warning in Rick's eyes.

"Do you know where Carl is right now?" Rick questions and Lori stops before she can continue to act irrationally.

"I..." She hesitates, and Lori wonders why that specific bit of information is valuable to their present situation.

"You're better at playing nurse than you're at knowing your son whereabouts. " Rick pursues.

"Is it jealousy?" She throws at him with a sense of pride.

If he cares about what she does with his best friend, he must have feelings for her. Jealousy is a string of hope for Lori. The mistress must be Rick's way to show his frustration. Deep down Lori thinks that Rick continues to want her.

"You're insane. A parking is a place as good as another to do it." Rick abruptly breaks the course of her thoughts.

"Do what?" She defiantly asks.

"I want to divorce, Lori. I think you need more time for your extramarital activities. Clearly, being a wife and a mother is not your forte, and the same goes for me. I'm a shitty husband, and I wouldn't try to change anythang to please you." Rick does not say any word with more than a bored tone.

The lack of emotions in his statement renders it unbelievable for Lori. She can't take him seriously, and so she refuses to entertain his folly.

"Do you think about Carl?" Lori refuses to abandon her fake interest in their son's emotional well-being.

"We're shitty parents. I'm not the best father, and with you around, I don't try to rectify shit in the situation. In case you don't get it, I avoid you so much that I end up avoiding my son. You're nothing to me but a poorly functional tool. A cheap lay when I needed a quick way to cum. We're a cracked facade." Ultimately, anger finds its way through Rick's words.

His admission surprises him, and some of the lies, which he wants to believe burst. It is not always his need to protect his son, which makes him stay away from Carl. He has the same desire to protect Michonne and Andre, but he does not hold them at arm's length.

" I do think about Carl, and I'm taking him with me. Playing nurse is important to you. Your retreats are important to you. Carl is waiting for you to pick him at school, but holding Shane's hand is more important than being a mother to you. Carl is grown enough to handle his shit, but you aren't grown enough to handle the consequences of the thang you do." Rick spats and his admission infuriates him more than Lori does.

For Carl's abandonment, he shoulders the blame.

"He can take the bus." Lori manages to filter through everything said, and her lack of awareness exhausts Rick.

"My lawyer will contact you." He finishes with a quiet tone.

Lori attempts to process the words, and she stares at Rick. There must be a sign that she speaks with the wrong man. This cold demeanour and the total nonchalance, he can't be her Rick. Her eyes explore his body, and they conveniently lay on Rick's ringless finger. The words settle in, and they finally have a meaning for Lori's brain. There is a second of hesitation, and waves of fury crush Lori. She takes a deep breath, but it is futile. Ultimately, she gives into her ravaging anger.

"Rick, you're not living me for your bitch." Lori hisses, and Rick does not react.

"You're not taking Carl with you. You're not living me for that bitch, Rick." She hurls at him, and obscenities start to fall endlessly from Lori's lips.

Rick stares at Lori, and his answer to her anger is utter apathy. He ignores the hand gripping on his bicep and shirt, and Rick climbs in his car.

"If you're going to do somethang about it, make sure is nothang stupid." Rick closes his car door and leaves without adding more to his statement.

* * *

 **Tuesday around 5: 15 p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Carl asks as Rick walks into his room, and the surprise in his son's voice confirms what Rick already knows.

As a father, he failed beyond words. The knowledge makes Rick hesitant. He does not dare to walk into Carl's room, and he awkwardly stands outside. Somehow, he expects his son's anger. However, Carl is calm, and he puts his comic down.

"I take it you ain't happy to see me." Rick questions with a strange timidity.

The interaction with Carl is different. Now, Rick can't hide behind excuses. He admitted that he is more than flawed when it comes to being a father.

" I didn't expect to see you. It isn't the weekend, yet." Carl's answer accidentally twists the knife.

"Yeah..." It does not seem like an answer, but Rick does not know how to offer more.

He draws a deep breath, and he dares to step into Carl's space. Rick looks around the room, and the gifts, which he offered to his son, fill the room. However, they also look as if they don't belong there.

"I need to talk to you." Rick retrieves his words.

"About?" Carl becomes anxious, and his guilt resurfaces.

He looks at his father, and Rick is obviously tensed. Carl knows he may not like the conversation, and so he closes himself off. He picks the comic, which he discarded. Carl has a passive way to express himself.

"I will tell you later, but it is a bit weird that we have to do it here. " Rick truthfully answers.

It is strange, but he does not have that personal relationship with Carl. Standing in his son's room reminds him of that, and he feels out of place. He needs a safer space. Rick walks out of the room, and Carl's hesitantly follows him. They drive away.

...

...

...

...

Exhausted and worried, Carl breaks the grave silence.

"Dad is everything okay." He questions while Rick tries to focus on the familiar roads.

They stop in front of the comic shop because it is familiar to Rick. In that place, he pretends to be a good father He buys enough gifts to silence his guilt. Somehow, he needs a reminder that he can be a decent father if he tries. Fortunately, he is willing to try, and so he opens the car door. They step into the comic shop, and they both seem to relax. This is not abnormal.

"Your mom and I haven't been great..." Rick fails to continue, and so he deflects "do you want anything."

Carl blinks, but he says nothing. He knows not to expect more from Rick. Affection is not his forte, but Carl does crave the affection.

" you bought me all the news one last Saturday," Carl replies, and Rick needs another way to move forward.

It is so easy to hide behind habit. Buy Carl some comic and feel less guilty for being absent. However, if he has learned something from Michonne is that habit does not equal comfort.

"Yeah..." Rick sighs, and his vulnerability crawls to the surface.

"Does the situation between your mom and me..." He stops again unable to be his eloquent self.

How can his son intimidate him? With Carl, there is no switch of personality. There is no officer friendly or mobster Rick. He has to be this child's father, and for so long, he has failed to the task.

"You're going to leave right? You know ...you know. That is why you want to tell me." Carl speaks up, and he expresses months of anxiety.

He looks at Rick with anger and slight acceptation of the situation. Lori warned him, and Carl attempted to stop the inevitable. Now, Carl stares at the comics on the shelves. There is a need for comfort, and his thoughts drift to Michonne's porch. He wants to tell her about his mom, his dad, Shane. He wants comfort, and she is the only one, who has shown him that she may care to listen.

"Yeah..." Out of surprise, Rick answers dumbly.

Failure, he can't prevent it. For the first time in many years, Rick is truly vulnerable. He thinks of Michonne, and she would manage to work with his vulnerable side. She understands this side of him, and maybe he should steal a page out of her book.

"Are you going to leave me with mom?" Carl shows bravery while Rick tries to find his footing.

There is a slight hope into Carl's word. Perhaps, Rick won't abandon him. Between an abusive mother and an absentee father that tries to compensate, Carl will rather go with the lesser evil.

"Do you want to stay with your mom...Or do you want me to stay with your mom?" Rick anxiously asks, and his words aren't as clear as he wants them to be.

It is no the apology that he wants to offer nor is it the promises, which he wants to make. The vulnerability is not anything that he knows how to do. Fatherhood is his personal failure, and one day will not change that. Although, he wants to try to be a father. It is awkward and poorly packaged, but he has to try.

"Mom, she is..." He has tried to hold the tears, but Carl crumbles.

He wants to speak, but the threats have not left his mind. Therefore, the tears speak volumes.

"Hey, Carl?" Rick does not know how to handle tears.

Carl is not Michonne, and he can't tell him to find a girlfriend to deal with those. He maladroitly drags his son in a hug, and he rubs Carl's back to soothe his anguish.

"Look I don't want you to stay with Lori, but if you will prefer to stay with your mother, I can understand. She spends more time with you than I do... You don't have to choose me because I'm asking." Rick decides to be sensible and tactful about the situation.

He would not pick himself, and he does not believe Carl will. He is not fit to be a father, and he proves it every day. However, Michonne has managed to convince him that he can amend things, and he wants to amend his relationship with Carl. Playing house with Michonne makes him yearn for an actual family. He does not want to use his underground activities as an excuse to avoid his duty with Carl.

"Mom..." Carl starts to speak, and Rick believes it to be his choice.

"Okay... I understand." He really does, and Lori is the parent, which Carl knows.

Although, that is to Rick advantages. Lori is a horrible mom. She manages to make his pitiful effort looks like a great act of parenting.

"You don't," Carl replies furiously because he will not have the ability to explain.

" then tell me." Rick softly asks.

" can I come with you? I don't want to stay with mom...Mom..." Carl tries again, but he is too scared to talk.

" okay..." Rick is too happy to question the silence.

He hugs Carl, and he does not know what to say. His phone rings and the caller id indicates Martinez. He can't miss that one because it is probably about Andrea. Apologetically, Rick walks away from Carl and puts few comics in Carl's arms. It is too early to break completely with routine. After a quarter hour, Rick returns to the section where he left Carl. He does not want to do this after their conversation, and he has the feeling that Carl wants to say more.

"I have to drop you home, but I will pick you up, tonight," Rick says with regrets, but he needs to follow up on Andrea's case.

Finally, he has the address of his sister, and he wants to press on his advantage. Rick also has to do some arrangement. He is obviously not going to take Carl to the mansion or to Michonne's safe house.

"You're coming back, right." Carl anxiously questions as they leave the comic store.

"Yeah, you remember the case you helped me solve. I need to look through it, and then I will be back for you." Rick answers him with a soothing smile.

"Please, come back," Carl says, as he gets down of the car.

* * *

 **Tuesday around 7: 2o p.m.**

 **:**

 **:**

Lori barges into her son's room, and her anger increases as she lays eyes on Carl. She watches him as he packs a bag, and she has the confirmation of what she suspects. Furious, she grabs Carl by his elbow and drags him away from the bag, which he was packing.

"You told him." She shouts at his face and shoves him away from her.

Carl stumbles backwards, and he luckily avoids the fall. He stares at his mother, and he is confused. Above every other emotion, he is afraid. Lori does not appear on her most flattering light. It is easy to read fury from her body language. Carl has seen her furious, but this is on a different level.

"Mom?" He quietly questions.

His soft tone infuriates her. She glares at Carl, and she only sees the reflection of his father. Rick Grimes is an idiot if he believes that it will be so easy to leave her.

"Don't act dumb now. I know you told your father everything. Now he is going to leave us, but you're going to tell him that you don't want him to leave us." Lori says with an erratic tone, but she is no longer screaming.

However, her general state is close to mania. She grabs Carl by the arm, and she pulls him toward her. He winces under her grip on his arm, and her nails dig into his skin.

"You're going to beg your father to stay with us." She growls into Carl's face, and it is an order that he should not disobey.

"Mom, you're hurting me," Carl whines, and he tries to pry her hand away from his arm.

Lori shakes him so he can stop moving.

"You're going to tell your father that you don't want him to leave us. You're going to beg and cry." She insists, and Carl can no longer stand the pain in his arm.

Under her nails, he starts to bleed. Carl shoves Lori away from him, and he faces her with his anger.

"He is leaving you." He viciously shouts at her, and he walks back toward his backpack.

He ceases to face Lori, and so he misses the murderous glance, which she directs at him. When she grabs his hair and pulls his head back, Carl cries in agony. His scalps start to burn, and he attempts to escape her ironclad grip.

"Is it why you told him about me and Shane? I told you what the consequences would be. Look at you, what is that?" Lori shouts in fury, and she releases Carl's head to grab his backpack.

Lori starts to take the clothes out of it. She allows hysterical cries to leave her lips. Soon Carl's clothes are lining the floor of his room.

"Mom... Stop." He grabs Lori's hand, and he tries to retrieve his bag.

"Look at you with your little backpack. Do you think he is going to take you with him? Do you think I will let that happen? Do you believe him?" She viciously spits the words, and she throws the empty backpack at him.

Lori anger and viciousness feed Carl's similar sentiments. He glares at his mother with hatred, and for once, he refuses to believe her lies.

"He is leaving you not me." He does not shout, but the confidence in his words assault Lori.

Carl's words are a truth, which Lori can't presently accept. The situation will hurt less if Rick was abandoning them. Misery loves company. Lori is a miserable being, who has yearned for others. First, she berated Rick about their financial situation, and it led him to the crime words. Unsatisfied by his effort, she sought Shane's company. Shane is as miserable as she is. However, it did not suffice, and so Carl was her target. She threw at him her fear to be abandon by Rick. When making Rick inadequate for her was no longer an option to keep him devoted to her, she started to lash out on Carl.

"Shut up," Lori shouts while she slaps Carl to silence him.

The slap is so violent that Carl's temple bleeds. There is silence in the room. It never went that far before. However, Lori never heard the truth, which she hates so much before. As she processes Carl's words, he analyses his mother's action. Silence relinquishes its holds on the room to chaos. In a second, Carl runs out of the room, and Lori follows him.

"Carl? Carl comes back here." She shouts at the door while Carl crosses the streets.

...

...

...

...

From the erratic knocks at the door, Michonne can tell that the person behind is desperate. Sasha does not believe the same, and she tells Michonne to move away from the door. Although, Michonne stands behind Sasha when she carefully opens the door. Both women face a scared Carl Grimes.

"That is unexpected," Sasha says as she recognises Carl as Rick's son, and she moves away so Michonne is visible because Carl's searching glances say a lot.

The porch is poorly lit, and so Carl is not completely seen by Sasha and Michonne. Sasha and Michonne switch their position.

"Michonne." Carl sobs and he immediately squeezes between the small door opening and Michonne.

He hides behind her, and Michonne carefully turns to face him. Under the lights of her living entrance, Carl is more visible and so is the wound on his temple. Michonne stops when she takes in the bleeding temple and the bleeding arm around her waist.

"What happened to you?" She anxiously questions while she peruses his body for any other wound.

Carl can hardly hear her question because loud knocking noise covers her voice. Lori shouts his name behind the door.

"Please..." Carl pleads while he grips around Michonne's waist tightens.

He did not know where to go, and Carl feels safe around her.

"It is okay..." Michonne kisses the crown of Carl's head and stares at her door.

"Watch after Andre, can you do that." She asks Sasha, and the other woman checks at the door.

Sasha recognises Lori, and she wonders what mess will happen. However, she does as Michonne asked, and she starts to walk out of the room.

"Can you call my dad, please?" Carl succeeds to say between tears while Lori continues to knock at Michonne's door.

"Do you have a number," Michonne asks, and she can hardly hear herself above the knocking sounds.

"just call the Atlanta PD and asks for homicide detective Grimes," Carl repeats what Rick told him to do in case of emergency.

Michonne looks down at Carl, and it is obvious.


	12. Chapter 12

**Finally…finallyyy. I know long overdue update, and I made sure it was a long chapter.**

 **Thanks for the reviews.**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

 **Please, review.**

* * *

 **Chapter XI: Transient Tuesday**

* * *

 **Tuesday 4: 30 pm**

Rick stares at the file, which Martinez dropped on his desk half an hour ago. The pages contain the same dull pieces of information, which he has previously read, but Rick easily determines that Martinez threw a bone to distract him. Although, his curiosity arises with the knowledge that Martinez and Dixon have a horse in the race. Where does their loyalty lay?

Rick's fingers run over the crisp paper, and he has the file memorized by now. Glenn, the guy in the I.T. department has successfully pulled Andrea's federal file, and Rick doesn't understand how the ex-agent ended up so deep in the crime world. Perfect record until a mission gone wrong. Supposedly dead in the line of duty, but Rick recognizes a deflection. From a law-abiding citizen to the dark corner of the mob, their history is similar. However, Rick didn't fake his death, and he needs to understand the reason behind such a drastic choice.

The file lies open at a random page, and Rick attempts to order his thought. He doesn't want to lose his advantage on his corrupted colleague. Martinez and Dixon want to steer him in a specific direction. Rick sighs, and he pretends to go through the file for the eyes on him. The file contains the address of Andrea 's sister and very little about the investigation. Martinez wants to lead him on a specific path, and Rick is willing to explore it. Michonne already suggested a visit to the younger Harrison woman, Amy.

Something is odd about Dixon and Martinez, and Rick's curiosity might endanger his progress with Michonne's situation. The days are closing on them, and he will have to face Negan in three days. Rick needs to find the damn book, but somehow Dixon and Martinez fit in the bigger picture. The game of subtlety infuriates Rick, but he has no choice in the matter. Pure violence won't solve anything.

Rick knows to follow his gut, and they twist in every direction in regards of the detective pair which Merle and Martinez form. If Martinez has a reason to attempt to double-cross him over Andrea, Rick wants to understand the core of his motivation. The whispered conversation between Merle and Martinez is hard to miss. Rick can feel the eyes on him, and they are eager to observe his next move.

Although Rick pretends to be obvious to the situation, he wants to control every move in this strange game. Therefore, he decides to indulge the wonder duo. Rick draws a deep breath, and he attempts to think his way out of the potential mess to come. A book, a murder, corrupted police officers, and he is in the centre of it all because Michonne's life rests on it. He never thought his downfall mat come from a stupid arrangement.

Rick internally agonizes, and he can't find an ounce of regret for falling in love with Michonne. His love for her might cost him his mob empire, his freedom, and more. However, he could care less about the risk, which he chooses to take as long as she is safe. Rick closes the file on his desk, and he passes his hands in his curls out of frustration.

The entire case is tiresome for Rick, and the expansions of something as simple as an embezzlement to a potential mob war is frustrating. There is the addition of missing people, and the young detective wonders what he stepped onto. Rick does not want a new player in the game, but with Martinez and Dixon involvement, he knows the chances are high to have a third big player in the game. People like Merle and Martinez are always pawns. Therefore, he has to prepare for the worse. Rick grabs the file on his deck, and he walks out of the room with his mind made on the situation. He can and will play Dixon and Martinez's game.

Rick deliberately slows his steps to see how close the wonder boys trail him. He hears the synchronized steps behind him, but there are very soft. Rick chuckles because their approach is subtle, but they are trailing the wrong man. Rick picks his phone, and he searched through his contact for the right man for the situation.

….

….

….

…

"Daryl?" Rick says as a form of greeting, and the other man just grunts as an answer.

"how do you feel about family time?" Rick continues, and Daryl sighs.

" what did that fucker of Merle got himself into this time?" The frustration renders his drawl heavy, and Daryl dreads any interaction with his brother.

His desire to commit fratricide has not disappeared through the years.

"well, that's the thang, which I want you to discover. I need to know why your brother is attached to me like balls to a dick. His partner and he have trailed me the entire day." Rick answers with equal frustration, and he looks back to see if the wonder boys are close enough to hear his conversation with Daryl.

"getting the pieces of information and all the shit is Sasha's work. I'm not the subtle type, and she needs to get of babysitting duty. Call me when there is a knee to break." Daryl deadpans, and he has no intention to interact with his brother.

In addition, he is tired of listening to Sasha's complain about her new role. He couldn't even tell her everything about the last outing because she didn't want to hear about assaulting cops.

"I know what your M.O, and I'm not sending Sasha to your brother for two reasons. First, Sasha is the best when it comes to taking notice of her surroundings. Second, you're going to whine an entire week because I let your girlfriend deal with your brother who almost assaulted her ." Rick nonchalantly counters Daryl, and he knows that he doesn't need any more argument to further his point.

"I don't care if you break a knee or an elbow. I need to know why his head is up my rectum, and why I can't take a piss without him following me around. I would break those bones myself if I could." He finishes when he is sure that Daryl is totally on board.

"Do you want me to deliver a message while I tell him to get off your dick?" The eagerness oozes out of his drawl, and Rick did not expect less from Daryl.

He chose Daryl to go after Merle because he knows that the encounter will be close lethal, and Rick has not let go of his grudge against his colleague. Well, Rick rather takes it as something very personal when anyone chooses to bother Michonne.

" Negan and Shane Walsh wants him to tell his boss to back off. Andrea is not discreet." After a long analysis of the situation, Rick says.

He has already started to play according to the new player in the game. Rick is slowly walking himself out of the equation. He is pushing Shane forefront of the situation.

" you know that you ask to execute a hit on my brother. What if…" Daryl says without conviction, and Rick interrupts him.

"You don't want his hand on Sasha. Isn't for your lady love that you cut him off the first time. I thought you would enjoy kicking the shit out of him for a second time." Rick says as he reminds Daryl of their first meeting.

Rick can easily see himself passing a message to Daryl from Sasha, who already worked for him at the time. Rick wasn't sure he wanted the brother of a cop in his organization, but bailing Daryl out of jail for assault on Merle changed his mind. He needed someone able to do what Daryl did. Now, he again needs Daryl particular set of skills, and he knows Daryl will take an immense pleasure breaking every racist bone in his elder brother bodies. He never took well the comment Merle did about Sasha considering that his reaction to it landed him to a cell.

"Yeah...I will take care of it."

* * *

 **Tuesday around 8: 30 pm**

… **.**

 **.**

For Carl's sake, Michonne attempts to ignore Lord's shouts. Although, ignoring the bangs at her door becomes harder when they send Carl in a deeper level of panic. The tween clings on Michonne with desperation, and she tries to soothe him with rub on his back and quiet words. Although, nothing suffices to console him.

"please don't let her in…please." Beyond the words, there are the words, which Carl can't dare to ask a stranger even though the stranger is Michonne.

However, his body language reveals everything. Carl needs Michonne to protect him from his mother, and his trembling hands clinging on her blouse is a clear plea. He hardly allows Michonne to move, and she does not want to move out of his crushing embrace. Although, she does not believe that he must listen to Lori's hysterical shouts.

Careful not to startle Carl, she starts to steer him away from the entrance of her home. Michonne looks around for Sasha, and she must be in Andre's room. Therefore, she leads a frighten Carl to Andre's room.

"I will be back…" Michonne attempts to tell Carl calmly, but her words fuel his anxiety.

He holds on her shirt until the blouse's material threatens to be torn. Michonne drags Carl into a comforting hug, and she allows him to silently sob. She passes her fingers in his silky hair, and she waits for the panic to pass.

"don't go…Don't leave me… Don't let her in." Every statement sounds more desperate than the previous one.

Sasha throws a concerned look toward Michonne, and Michonne simply shakes her head to the help offer. She whispers Andre, and Sasha replies with a soft smile. Andre is asleep in Sasha's arms.

"I'm not going anywhere, but I need a minute to deal with…" Michonne does not know how to pursue her sentence.

Carl's arm around her waist crushes her hip bones. She continues to rub his back, and she continues to ignore the bang at her door. Lori will eventually give up, but she does not give up after half an hour. Although, Carl is significantly less afraid.

"I will be back, I promise," Michonne reassures him with a kiss on the crown of his head.

Hesitantly, Carl frees Michonne's waist, but he loosely holds on her blouse. There are small spots of blood on the side, where he pressed his head. Michonne makes a Herculean effort to keep her emotions in check.

"Sasha watch after him for a minute please," Michonne says when she successfully walks out of Carl's embrace, and he carefully eyes Sasha.

Although, the presence of Andre in her arm reassures him.

"You're coming back, right." Carl insists, and Michonne placates his worry with a kiss on his cheek.

" just going to pass a call to your father, and put an end to …" Michonne thinks better than to finish her statement.

She does not think Carl wants to know her intention for his mother.

….

….

…

….

Michonne attempts to quiet her anger but Lori's loud knocks don't help her emotional states. Seeing Carl in that frightened state has made Michonne's blood boils, but she needs to be pragmatic about the situation. Anything may give Lori an advantage in the eyes of the law. Her criminal lawyer experience slowly resurfaces, and she keeps herself grounded.

"Is everything okay..." Michonne carefully opens the door, and her expression is stoic.

Michonne's back is straights, and she wears her more haughty expression. The reaction to Lori is almost visceral, and associating Michonne's reaction to jealousy would be disrespecting her emotional maturity. It is without vanity that Michonne knows that she has nothing to envy to Lori. Lori is a beautiful woman if one who looks at her appreciate dull beauty with a side of psychosis.

However, Michonne's reaction is visceral because Lori had the nastiness to put her hand on a child. Such act revolt Michonne, and it says a lot about the villainy of the act because she shares her bed with a man, who commit horrible crimes on daily basis. Michonne's eyes say every word she forbid her tongue to form. Every glance at Lori represents the verbal slap, which she itches to deliver.

"My son is here," Lori says with poorly controlled anger, and she advances toward Michonne.

With a raised eyebrow, Michonne crosses her arm, and she blocks any access to her home. Her glare to Lori is a warning, which the other woman chooses to disregard.

"Your son?" Michonne questions although the words carry all the disgust, which she feels in regards to Rick's wife.

She holds tightly on her blouse, which Carl's blood has stained. Michonne has a battle of will every time she looks at Lori, but she chooses to be logical. She chooses to think two step ahead, and she won't allow a misjudgment in her part to profit Lori.

"Carl, I saw him entering here." Lori boldly replies, and she starts to move toward Michonne's door.

"Did you?" Michonne's tone is patronizing, and she easily makes Lori feel beneath her.

The brunette does not appreciate Michonne's mannerisms. She can see that the other woman reaction is personal. Slowly, Lori becomes paranoid. There must be a reason why Carl ran to her.

"My son...Carl...Carl" Lori starts to shout Carl's name, and she attempts to shove Michonne's out of her way.

When Lori gives Michonne an opening for less polite action with her erratic behaviours, Michonne breathes a sigh of relief. She grabs Lori's arm and violently shoves her away from her door. Michonne hovers over Carl's, and she quietly begs for Lori to give her a reason to return every blow, which Carl suffered.

"Whoever you're, I haven't seen your son" Michonne hisses.

When Lori again reach for the door of her home, Michonne lets her sharp stiletto nails dig into Lori's arm, and she drags her back to her previous spot. " if you continue to shout on my porch, I will call the police. I don't suppose you're willing to explain why Carl is hiding inside my house. Take my words for it, Carl is not here" Michonne says every word with the hint of a quiet warning.

Her nails come out of Lori's flesh, and she looks at them with disdain. Michonne wants to walk away but Lori stops her.

"Let's be clear here, bitch. I don't know who do you think You're or what do you think you're doing, but my husband is renown in the police department." Lori lacks the wisdom to back away, and she takes the bait.

Michonne looks at the hand on her arm, and her legal mind assures her that she is in her right to defend herself. Her smile to every word leaving Lori's mouth is condescending.

" So I'm not the one who needs to be worried about the …" Lori never has the opportunity to finish her sentence.

In a matter of a second, Michonne pushes Lori's hand away from her arm, and she slams her fist in Lori's face with as much power as she can manage to build. Michonne quick violence suffices to stun Lori to complete silence while she deals with her throbbing head. The brunettes lip burst under the force of the impact, and Lori bleeds.

"Feel free to call them, but until then this is a private property and you're trespassing. Touch me again and I will hit you until the bone in my hand shatter." Michonne says with a collected composure, and she shoves Lori away from her porch to punctuate her statement.

"Carl...Carl...Carl" Lori starts to shout with more despair and anger.

Obviously, when the adversary is of her own size, she finds it hard to reciprocate. Michonne glares at her, and she challenged Lori to take another step on her porch.

"Do you need help?" Sasha comes to stand behind Michonne.

An easy smile sits on Sasha's lips. After a month spent babysitting Michonne and Andre, she finds this moment entertaining. She stares at Lori with a predatory smile, but Michonne stops Sasha's step with an end on her shoulder.

" I can handle a psycho. I have my ways, Sasha." Michonne calmly says, and Sasha understands that the matter is personal between both women.

"Okay, Princess." She says with an amused tone.

Princess, the word stop Lori's vociferation. She forgets about Carl, and her eyes narrow on Michonne. Anger fills the brown irises, and she attacks Michonne without a second thought.

"You're Rick's fucking whore." Lori cries in fury as she throws her fist in every direction, and Michonne easily dodges her blow. "You're the bitch behind all of this." Lori attempts to grab Michonne's lock, but Sasha intervenes before the situation can become more chaotic.

Sasha pulls Michonne out of Lori's reach, and she bends to grab Lori's leg. Quickly, the brunette hit the ground, and Sasha straddles her to subdue her.

" what are you doing? This bitch….get off me." Lori furiously cries, and she attempts to shove Sasha away from her.

"please give me a reason or better, Princess is all up to you," Sasha says with a smile meant to hide the exasperation, which her voice displays.

"This bitch…" The rest of the sentence dies on Lori's lip when She notices what Sasha presses against her throat.

The cold metal already nibs at Lori's skin. Sasha only has to push the sharp edge deeper, and the confident stare, which she directs at Lori makes her intention clear.

"What …are …you… doing?" Lori says every word painfully.

She does not dare to move, and Sasha is ready to strike at any moment. Michonne draws a deep breath, and she quietly asks Sasha to let her handle the rest.

"Next time when you assault me, I will allow Sasha to finish what you so eagerly started. The same goes for Carl, touch him again and I will drive that knife myself into your throat… Consider leaving my porch before I change my mind and claim that I was standing my ground." Michonne walks back into her home without casting a last glance to Lori.

* * *

 **Tuesday around 9: 20 pm**

Rick didn't expect everything to go smoothly, but he expected more than the red wooden door, which he presently faces. He easily hears the discreet steps inside the house. Rick draws a deep breath, and he wills more patience for the situation.

" Ma'am, it is Atlanta PD." He says with as much sweetness as he can manage, but Rick doesn't hope for much.

The house curtain merely moves, and Rick knows that he will have to use all his officer friendly charms. The thought almost disgusts him, but he straightens his posture. A warm smile sits on his lips, and he carefully walks toward the Windows.

"I will just press my badge to your window, and so you can check it, ma'am," Rick adds with his most soothing voice and presses his badge at the window.

The curtains move slightly, and he hears more steps around the house. There is a growing impatience in Rick, and he questions the paranoia of Andrea's sister. Michonne's paranoia, he could explain because of the threats, which she received, but Amy Harrison never reported any incident. Perhaps, the incidents were covered, and Rick's eyes instinctively drift behind him. Obviously, Martinez and Merle continue to follow him, and they might have hidden her complaint like Rick did Michonne's one.

"fuck…" Rick mutters under his breath, and his mind slowly knit conclusion with the loose thread, which he presently grasp.

 _Fuck Mike Anthony_. Rick thinks with a certain gloom. If Michonne's dead husband had enough decency to respect his marital vow, this entire mess will be falling on someone else. As Rick moves forward, he only walks down paths more sinuous than the first one.

" Is there a problem?" Amy's voice cuts Rick's internal lamentations.

Rick has a second to make a decision, and he pointedly glances behind to work on Amy's paranoia. After a long minute of pregnant silence, Rick leans closer to Amy's door, and his eyes pointedly drift toward the Merle and Martinez's car. Fear increases in Amy's eyes and Rick keep his satisfied smile at bay.

"Yes, I think Andrea has already told you enough about the situation, but …" Rick stops again, and he looks back at the suspicious car.

"You're with the police?" Amy manages to speak above whispers, and in a very slow movement, Rick covers her trembling hand.

"Not tonight, I work for the same guy, who Andrea work for. I don't know… there are listening." Rick abruptly stops speaking, and he decides to take advantage of her paranoia.

" Andrea is dead." She unconvincingly lies, and Rick reminds himself to stay in characteristics.

"I can't speak on the porch, Ma'am. Although, it will be a wrong idea to let me in. Here…" Rick increases his acting abilities, and he wants Merle and Martinez to believe the intimacy between Amy Harrison and him.

Between the three, someone will lead him to Andrea. Rick leans to whisper into Amy's ear, and she must have decided that he was trustworthy. The door opening is wider, but Rick chooses not to step inside.

" dead or not, her print and DNA are all over Mike Anthony. They will start looking for her, and detective Shane Walsh is trying to pin it on her. The world might believe she is dead, but he is sure to have seen her more than once when Mike had to launder for him. She will remember." He quietly whispers, and his tone is no longer sweet.

"I'm not the bad guy, but they are." Rick finishes while he easily keeps Amy from running away from him. "keep your door lock, sweetheart." Rick says when he releases her forearm, and he walks away with his phone pressed on his ear.

From the corner of his eyes, he notices that the wonder duo continues to follow him. Rick sighs, and he decides to put an end to their game. He takes a deep breath, and he starts to take narrow street's corners. He will push them to reveal their p presence or they will have to give up the trail. Merle and Martinez settle on the latter option. They stop at the fourth turn, and Rick decides to return to Amy Harrison's house. He assumes she has already passed a frantic call to her sister. It is a matter of a time before her elder sister comes out of her hiding place. He is midway through Amy's place when his phone starts to ring. Rick is tempted to ignore it because he may be able to put a stop to Michonne's predicament tonight, but he can't ignore that specific caller when she decides to call on his business phone.

"Princess?" Rick answers, and Michonne does nothing but breathe.

He easily recognizes her sign of anxiety, and in a day like this Tuesday, his adrenal hormone flares rather quickly. His mind already jumps to the worse conclusion, and somehow he easily imagines her escaping Sasha's surveillance because Michonne is stupidly brave. Great, he is just in the mood to wreak havoc.

"Are you okay?" Rick insists with a harsher tone, and he dreads her answer.

His hands hold tightly on the steering wheel, and Rick Rick's mindset changes. Rage simmers under the layer of his skin. The day has carried the worst news for him, and he expects another one.

"Hello, Detective Grimes." Michonne regains her ability to speak, and the easiness in her use of language quiets Rick's worries.

"Is that your way of letting me know your kink?" Rick teases, and another silence rewards him.

What is it going to be now? She is about to withdraw what she told him. He expected her to negate the feelings, which she proclaimed. Why does he always set himself for failure?

"Carl is here." Michonne hesitantly says, and Rick is at loss of words.

He mentally prepared himself for a tirade on why she would stick to their arrangement. Rick prepared himself to plead with Michonne, and he would have shoved the evidence of his goodwill down her throat until she admitted that he intends to spend a lifetime with her. However, he didn't expect her to tell him that his lives were overlapping.

"What do you mean Carl is here?" He has a strong hold on his panic, but the anxiety manages to roar between words.

The question is to stall his crucifixion. Michonne is going to bury him alive. He can come up with a defence on why he thought she could leave in a neighbouring house. He is typically lying to himself there are a few arguments, which he knows he can't win against Michonne. When it is emotional, he is always ready to subdue because he can't deal with her dignify pain. _Fuck…I'm pussy-whipped._ Rick regretfully thinks.

"I mean your son is here, and he is demanding your presence... no, he needs you home," Michonne says with a strange break between words, and her façade of calm melt under the emotional stress.

Rick overlooks most of her words, and he notices that she calls her safe house home. However, nothing sounds truer to his ears. He built a home with Michonne in four days, and he never succeeded to build anything with Lori in more than fourteen years. _Fuck…_ He anxiously thinks. That knowledge changes everything, and it follows by many random thoughts. Although, one thought is persistent. Michonne won't settle for this life. She won't tolerate the risk of another Negan.

"I..." He stutters because the reality is crushing.

There is no compartmentalized life with Michonne. There are children involved. Carl, Andre and whatever child adds itself in the equation. The matter can be questioned, and he will want children with her. The moment is strange and inappropriate for his thought. However, his lives have ultimately merged with Michonne has the epicentre of such tectonic activity. He needs a proper way out of the business on top of saving Michonne.

"It's not up to arguments. Come home, Rick." Michonne insists, and her words echo his thoughts.

Their situation is not up to argumentation. He has a family. He has three days to keep them safe. Rick has three days to tie his loose ends.

"On my way." Rick turns his car around, and it feels like taking the first step toward a life, which he refused to run after.

...

...

…

...

During his ride, Rick formulated potential scenarios, which could explain Carl presence in Michonne's home. He obviously intended to introduce one to the other, but he wanted to fix his relationship with Carl. In addition, the fear of having to lose Michonne once this mess is dealt with has not completely disappeared. Rick may have taken the resolution to end his life with Michonne, it doesn't mean she will agree on his term.

When Michonne waits for him by the porch, Rick doesn't know, which emotions must prevail. He can pick her anxiety, and Rick is alert. His day has been a succession of emotional duress, and it has left Rick on the edge of emotional chaos. Michonne reads his mind better than he wants her too, and she always reacts accordingly. She stands before he can make it to the door.

"Where is Carl? Is everything okay?" His tone only confirms Michonne's suspicion on his emotional state.

Michonne inhales, and she hesitates to speak. She quickly regrets that mistake because she notices his emotional shift. His eyes run over her frame, and he takes note of every detail. She should have changed her blouse, and the thought is too late. She should have washed her hand, and another thought, which comes too late.

"I'm fine." She rushes the words out before he can fall from the edge to land into uncontrollable anger.

"Carl?" fear, it is the only thing Michonne hears in Rick's question. "where is Carl?" Anger quickly returns because her answer was not immediate.

"First calm down. " Michonne demands, and she knows better than to request emotional stability from Rick Grimes.

Although, Michonne is too exhausted to have logical thoughts. She knows how he will react, but her attempts to prevent chaos have greater chances to backfire.

"Princess?" He questions with that cynical drawl, which makes her blood run cold.

Although, Rick reacts to her emotional exaggeration of his potential response to the situation. Why is she blocking the way in when she ordered him to come home.

"I don't want any of your shit right now. I'm not letting you see him if it is for you to scare him more." Michonne says with a defensive stance, and she feels Rick's fire.

"My son...my son. You aren't letting me see my son. I might let you get away with many thangs Princess, but the clever thang is to know my limits." There are many derisive chuckles between his words. He doesn't know Where she gets her boldness from, but her audacity is impressive.

Although, he can't contradict her words. The woman can read him like an open book. He is not in the most optimal state to deal with anything with any other thing that violence. If it was not Michonne talking to him, Rick wouldn't be as restrained as he is.

"Where is my son, Michonne?" He closes the distance between them, and he fists her blouse to check the blood on it.

His free hand covers Michonne's abdomen. Fingers explore her skin in search for any wound. If she is so willing to keep him calm, he has reason to implode. His fingers stretch her skin and graze the hem of her bra.

"I'm fine." Michonne pulls Rick's hand out of her blouse. " Satisfied." She lifts her top to show the flawless skin, which he loves so much.

"that's Carl blood?" The question is rhetorical, and anything implied by the darkening of his pupil is quite explicit.

"He is fine too, but he is already afraid of one of his parent, and so I need you to be in control. He needs his father, and if you can't be present, I will overstep your limits. I will walk all over you if I need to do so" Michonne warns Rick because she has mastered his personality switch.

Now, standing on her porch is the man, which easily coerced her into an arrangement. He is the man, who would have killed Mike to continue to fuck her. He is the man, who is going to make his son an orphan because Lori dared to touch his son. Michonne loves this insane man, and it is why she wants to prevent him to do something he may not regret but he would have to deal with the consequence. She stops to blink for a moment at her own admission. She loves this side of him or clearly she loves him as an all.

"Ain't it a lucky thang that I love you?" Rick dismisses her threat, and his confession of love is a very clear threat.

There is the way he holds her waist loosely with his fingertips. There is his hot breath along her cheek because he rests his nose along her temple. Heavy breathing because he has that policy to preserve her from his physical violence, but he has many another way to crush her. He will eventually fix the broken pieces, make amend because he strangely confessed that he loves her. However, if she continues to stand between his son and Rick, Michonne will remember that she loves the monster more than she does his softer side. She needs to come to peace with it, and it means allowing him around people, who she cares about and trust him to be as gentle as he is with her

"I...I...I " Michonne hesitates because Carl is someone, which she wants to protect from any monster even those, which she trusts not to hurt her.

Does she trust this version of Rick, which always simmers under the surface around Andre or Carl? The question is beyond the admission of her love.

"Where is my son?" Rick quietly whispers as he breaks their physical proximity.

If she can allow him such liberties with her body when his caresses are threats, what more barrier of trust should he cross. Michonne steps aside, and she points him to the living room.

"Good." He softly kisses her cheek because they have come to a tacit agreement.

She trusts him with those, who she wants to protect. She trusts him with Andre, and she wants to shield Carl from the danger of the world. However, she trusts him to do good by Carl. Rick would kiss Michonne if her audacity and boldness did not drive him so mad. He hears her timid step behind him, and she holds his shirt before he can enter the living room and see Carl.

"I am as calm as I can be." He reassures her, and Michonne frees his shirt.

Obviously, she knows him better than he knows himself. Rick does not make it inside the room, and a glance at Carl suffices to drown in mind under crushing wave of anger. Michonne should have clean the blood, which forms dry clusters on his temple. Although, she has not had the time to do more than keep Carl safe from Lori. Sasha has successfully calmed the tween by placing Andre in Carl's arms. He is taking his babysitting task seriously, and Andre is in an amazing form. Michonne didn't want Rick reasonable fury to disrupt this moment.

"Please." She pulls on his shirt before Rick's anger slips into the moment of peace Sasha and she managed to create for Carl.

Rick takes two step back, and he carefully pries Michonne's hand from his shirt. His anger radiates from him, and the strength of it glued Michonne to a spot. Although, she has never seen Rick more in control of his emotion. The purpose in his eyes makes the blue of his irises disturbingly vivid. His movements are fluid like the night where he first dragged her out of her apartment. There is that quiet chaotic flame, which burned her when for the first time he fucked with vindication. That fire draws amber ring along his pupil. Michonne stands in her spot to terrified of the future outcome to react. She watches him go out of the room, and it takes a few minutes for her brain to associate a meaning to Rick's exit.

"RICK" Michonne desperately shouts as she crosses the street to follow him.

* * *

 **Tuesday 11: 45 p.m.**

Only a few minutes have passed, but the carnage in the living room may have a horrid explanation. Michonne avoids the broken lamps and the shattered chairs. The room looks like a crime scene. Although she will not regret Lori, Michonne does not believe Carl needs more trauma or a father in jail for that matter.

There are echoes of shout coming from upstairs, and Michonne's heart dilates. Without a second thought, she runs toward the distressed cries. Obviously, she finds the man, who she is after, but Lori is nowhere on sight.

"Lori that door won't last long." Rick drawls with a sadistic tone as he kicks it in an attempt to have the door of his conjugal room open.

Rick kicks the door multiple times but it resists his assault. He is getting frustrated, and he throws more strength in his kicks

"Rick, what is wrong with you?" Lori's frightful voice comes from the other side of the door.

She miraculously escaped Rick a few minutes ago after he just entered their living room and immediately proceed to choke her. She had planned to confront him about his Princess, but he had more murderous intent.

"I warned you about doing something dumb, but you had to go beyond... Fucking open the door, Lori." Rick does not bother with more explaining, and he kicks one more time the door.

The lock refuses to give away, and it is one of the reasons why he picked the door. The house should slow any attack on his family. The irony, now, the door protects someone, who Rick wants to kill. Frustrated, Rick draws his gun. He does not need to see where she is to get a good shot. He again kicks on the door to force Lori to move. He will hunt her like the rat, which she is. He intends to shot when the parquet winces, but Michonne recklessly jumps between him and the door.

"You're done." She confidently says, and she presses herself against the door.

" I have to start first, princess." Rick cocks an eyebrow, and he makes a show to aim at the door.

He expects Michonne to move if he aims at her, but she rolls her eyes. Carefully, she rearranges the direction of his colt.

"It was not a question, it was not a suggestion. It was an order." Michonne's exhaustion fuels her anger.

"Lori? Lori…Lori … come out, baby." Rick glares at Michonne because she stubbornly stands as an obstacle between Lori and a deserved punishment. He glares at her in a very threatening manner, and Michonne will laugh if the situation was not so dear. Michonne has the unbreakable belief that even at the peak of his anger, Rick will never dream about harming her.

"Don't give me this look. Don't try to intimidate me if you will not follow with the threat. " Michonne says as she leans more into the door.

"Lori, sweetheart come out." Rick decides to ignore Michonne.

"Rick, I'm going to call the cops," Lori warns, and Rick cynically laughs.

"Fucking shut up." Michonne bangs against the door, and she shoves Rick away from it.

"Michonne...Michonne...Princess, you're pushing your luck." Rick warns her, but he still allows her to shove him further away from the door.

Where did he lose his balls between the process of meeting her and this moment?

"We don't fucking need this. I need you to return home and to be a father." Michonne shoves him with more strength, and through his fury, Rick stops to consider what she is going to put him through for pushing all her button. _Yeah… he ain't coming back from this type of love._ He eyes Michonne. If he has the time to worry about sexual sanction during a murder attempt, something must be terribly wrong with him. For the record at moment like this, Rick hates Michonne.

"That is the only thing Carl needs or wants, his father. He does not need whatever this is." She shoves him again away from the room, and Rick offers no resistance. "He wants his daddy, and I will drag you there if I have to. " Michonne punctuates her statement with a pull on his arm.

"Lori. Stop hiding." Rick's anger has completely deflated, and he can only blame Michonne for knowing how to resonate with him.

Although, he will put this one on distraction and hyperactive libido. Perhaps, he has a strange kink about a powerful woman, which does not put up with his bullshit.

"Lori…" Rick says as an act of rebellion because he is Rick Grimes, and he needs a day to admit that he is another fool in love with the perfect woman for him.

"You must have misheard me, Rick Grimes. We're going home." Michonne continues to drag him, and she is too busy during the delivery of her angry tirade to notice the warm smirk, which announces the end of Rick resistance.

" Is this easier to you? This comes naturally to you, but anything else has you running.

Now, you're going to put your big boy pants on and go be Carl's father or God help me, Richard." Michonne says while Rick nods.

"Chonne? You need to calm down." He says after Michonne has dragged him back to what strangely became their home.

" He needs you. Carl needs you. I need you home, or I will knock you out and drag you there." She finishes with a hint of frustration.

The moment is inappropriate like everything about their relationship, but it is the strange moment when Rick Grimes discovers that she makes him happy. He wants a family with her, and he is going to make sure to have one.

* * *

 **Wednesday 12: 15 a.m**

 **..**

…

Rick doesn't know why Michonne thinks that he has the ability to play his father rolls, but he trusts her for knowing when he can be the better version of himself. Rick also wants to try this thing of being a father beyond Saturday, and it comes with a challenge like this. Michonne is right, and he needs to stop running from what truly matters.

"Hey," Rick says with a hesitant tone.

Andre's room is neutral territories. The few times when Rick has found himself in the room, he had done a decent job at parenting. Therefore, he chooses to anchor himself in that knowledge. Rick sits by Carl's side, and he starts to clean the small cut. He knows Michonne didn't do it because she didn't think it was her place to do so. Rick is grateful, she offered him the opportunity to soothe his son's fear. He participated in the creation of the emotional dysfunction in Carl's life, and he will make sure to fix his wrong. More reasons to find a way out of the business. He quietly cleans and dresses Carl's wound. Rick patiently waits for the panic to pass. He will make himself available.

"okay…" Rick says when he can no longer pretend to be of use.

The visible wounds are clean, and Carl will decide when he wants the other one to be looked upon. Rick kisses the crown of Carl's head, and he reluctantly stands to leave the room.

" Michonne is running a bath for you," Rick says because he has nothing of substance to say.

Even the neutrality of Andre's room does not take the entire discomfort away.

"Dad" Carl recognizes Rick's effort, and as Michonne pointed out, he needs his father.

"Are you okay?" Rick says as he retakes his spot on the bed.

"I...Mom." The secret still seems too forbidden to share, and the pain is raw.

Carl blinks his tears away, and he does not want to be a crybaby in front of a man, who he idolaters. For Carl, Rick is a paragon of courage and strength. His father would not cry in such time. Although, he wants to cry, and he wants his father's arm to protect him as Michonne's arms did. Therefore, he crushes Rick into a hug.

"It is okay. I know." Rick consoles him, and his words tug at a deep wound.

Carl has a desire to speak finally. Silence is not okay.

" You don't know. Mom..." He starts with as much courage as he can find, but he stalls.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Your mom isn't going to do anything to you." Rick confidently says. Michonne may have prevented Lori's death, but he will find ways to make her pay.

"Mom she didn't want you to leave her. She thought I told you about Uncle Shane. She never wanted me to tell you about it. I thought you will leave me behind when you find out. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to leave me with her." The words fall quickly, and he breathes better after each of them.

"l haven't been the greatest father, but I'm really trying to get myself together. I'm sorry for not showing you that I love you." Rick says with a solemnity, and he watches Carl just melt in quiet tears in his arms.

Wednesday 2: 45 a.m

Michonne eyes Rick from the corner of her eyes, and she does not understand why he stares at her. She knows the confrontation is unavoidable, but she wants to postpone it. Her eyes run over his bare chest and the white towel, which loosely clings at his waist.

There is a strangeness to the fact that they have a night routine. Rick will head to the shower, and Michonne will go through her skincare routine. Although, Rick purposely stands between Michonne and the sink while the water runs in the shower. He knows how water wasting infuriates her, and he has already done enough to infuriate her today.

Michonne takes a deep breath, and she attempts to look past the mist, which starts to fill the bathroom. She bypasses Rick, and she places her hands on the pristine white sink. She has the strange need to scrub everything until the day completely disappears from her mind. Slowly, she takes her locks in her hand, and they spill before she can do her usual loose bun.

"fuck." Michonne curses with a hoarse voice, which informally announces the arrival of tears.

Between the hands' tremor and the abrupt return of her emotions, Michonne starts to experience the effect of her insane Tuesday. The sudden decrease of adrenal hormone leaves her in a strange emotional limbo. She feels non-functional, and Michonne can't do a simple bun.

"fuck…Fuck." She says loud enough for Rick to take notice of her distress.

He looks at her with concern, which infuriates Michonne. He is the cause of her anxiety. Without him, she wouldn't have to deal with a psychotic woman nor would she have to prevent murder. Michonne returns Rick's look of concern with a scolding glare. Strangely, his reaction to her fury is a genuine laugh. There is a glimmer of happiness in his eyes, and Michonne can't verbalize her annoyance with Rick.

"share the joke with the rest of the class," Michonne says out of frustration.

Rick's answer is another laugh, and Michonne rolls her eyes. He takes her hand, and Rick pulls Michonne toward him. She puts some resistance, but he easily moves her from her spot.

"Come here." Rick softly whisper when his nose grazes Michonne's cheek.

He pushes the dreadlocks, which are obstacles to his caresses. Rick carefully pulls Michonne's lock up, and he does the bun, which she previously failed to do. Days of a routine have thought him details about her, and he picks her rose water and baby wipes.

"is it your way to issue an apology?" Michonne suspiciously asks when he carefully drags the wipe on her visage.

Obviously, he will use tenderness as a shield against her potential fury. Rick knows the inner functioning of Michonne's mind, and he has started to use it as a weapon. With exaggerated concentration, he continues to go through every step of her night routine.

"I don't apologize. This ain't it." Rick nonchalantly says as he throws away another wipe.

He looks through the different bottle of serum, and Michonne does not expect him to remember the order in which she applies them. However, Rick does not miss a step, and Michonne stands corrected. He finishes by taking her palm and placing a nut of cream on her palm.

"Your apology is accepted, Rick Grimes," Michonne says with a smile made bright by her fondness for his hard edges.

"Hmmm" He noncommittally says as he presses his forehead with her.

Being so close to Michonne keeps Rick grounded.

"I know you heard me. I know you get it." he finishes.

"Do I?" Michonne rolls her eyes

"you do, and you haven't run away from it. I assume…"

"shut up!" She sighs frustrated with his inadequacy in such a moment

"A randomly thrown I love you doesn't stand as a life-changing declaration. I deserve better not you heard me. I know you get it… No, I don't get it because it was an arrangement. Make yourself clear, Richard."

...

….

…..

…

Michonne's back arcs, and she gives Rick a better access to her breast. Michonne's hand covers his engorged manhood, and she starts to rub it on her wet labia. The young man tries to keep her stable while he slowly thrusts into her warm core. Michonne moans, and her grip around Rick's shoulder tightens. Rick's tongue teases the curvature of her neck, and his soft lips find Michonne's earlobe. He slowly sucks on her earlobe while his dick continues carefully to stretch her wet wall. Rick's pace is teasing, slow, and it does not suffice. Michonne wants more of her lover. She moves her hands to frame his face, and she looks deep into the enticing cobalt of his irises.

"More...baby...more." She says with a pleading tone, which expresses her aching need for more of him.

Rick's lips eagerly attack Michonne's ones. He swiftly switches their position, and Michonne's back collides with the bathroom wall. She is tightly pressed around it, and Rick's arms cage her.

Their slow kiss becomes fiery. His tongue has the aggressiveness of a conqueror, and no space in her mouth is left unexplored. Michonne's hand crawls on Rick's back until it settles on his ass. She guides his stroke, and she pushes for more roughness. Michonne wants more of Rick, and in the last days, she has not had enough of him. She wants to fit all her emotion into an act of abandon. Although, Rick is all about teasing and restraint. He nips along her neck, and his tongue retraces the path of his teeth. She moans at every caress of his lips. His slow and shallow thrusts are exquisite and frustrating.

She pushes on his ass to force a deeper thrust, and Rick responds by sinking his teeth deeply into the junction between her neck and shoulder.

"Patience, Princess ..." He punctuates his statement with a deep, long, and hard thrust. "Is..." He licks his bite mark, and Rick's tongue explores Michonne's breastbone. Michonne whimpers when he slams into her wall with bruising vigour." A virtue." Rick moves his hand away from the bathroom walls, and he uses them to keep Michonne's leg wide open and press against tiles. He completely withdraws his dick from her gripping wall, and he slams back into her with increasing vigour. She cries his name, and Michonne tightly holds on his shoulder. Her back grazes against the wall at each thrust, but she is too lost in pleasure to care for potential bruises. Her lips rest on his neck as she cries his name at every caress. Her skin is in flames and even filled with him, she can seem to have enough of Rick. Michonne drags her lips on his neck until they are pressed around his ear.

"Tell me, please." She begs between moans and panting.

Rick responds to her request by pushing his dick further into her. She loses her mind every time he hits the right spot, and she comes undone every time he slowly pulls out of her dripping labia. Her nails dig into his nape when his dick refills her wall.

"Say it, please," Michonne, begs every time she recovers from transient ecstasy.

She does not want to be the first one to say those words, but his touch and her need for more of him drag her down that path. Her nails draw sinuous paths on his back when his tongue teases her nipple and his mouth feast on her breast. Her walls contract and tremble at every stroke. The flames continue to claim every inch of her body. With their eyes locked, Rick continues to break her walls.

"I love you too." She timidly whispers against his skin while she adorns his flesh with many kisses.

Rick miraculously hears her, and he whispers the words back in the hollow of her ear. Suddenly, her need for him is quenched. Between his words and the physical ecstasy, Michonne easily falls from the edge into a crushing wave. Her orgasm is blinding and scorching. She hears Rick's ecstatic cry. Her feet touch the floor, and she has to hold on him not to fall.

"Now, you heard me?" Rick questions while he carries an exhausted Michonne to their bed.

"Yeah but say it again because I need a reason to explain us..." She drags him down in the bed while he attempts to put her down.

"I'm insanely in love with you, and you're way more insane for reciprocating it, Chonne."

"You get it." She quotes him

"This ain't an arrangement or an amendment to it."

"baby, I love you too."

"I earned that one"

" make sure not to lose it."

* * *

 **Thursday 10: 20 p.m.**

…

…

The red door and the yellow walls make the house distinguishable from any other house in the area. Andrea does not want to let any emotion slip, but she is close to a mini breakdown. She stares at Philip, and he is stoic. She expects them to drive past her childhood home, but Philip abruptly slams the break.

For a second they stare at the small suburb home, and the tension grows in the car. Breathing becomes hard for Andrea, and pearls of tears start to cluster around the inner corner of her eyes. Philip's large hands frame her face, and for the first time in three years, Andrea notices how cold his palms are. She wants to shove his hands away, but she does nothing.

"shush." He quietly whispers as tears start to leak from Andrea 's closed lids.

Philip's fingers dig in Andrea's cheek. His grip on her face is tight, and his words are not meant to be soothing. Andrea's vision blurs but she continues to stare in bright blue.

"what are we doing here?" Her voice breaks.

Philip's thumbs wipe her lower lids, and Andrea wants to slap his hands. She has no strength, and she doesn't want to cling onto her delusion. How dumb of her. Why did she tell him the truth about Amy's call?

"I think you have an idea, sweetheart." He answers while his hand slides from her cheek to her neck.

Philip's fingertips caress Andrea's thready pulse. He almost can hold the fear, which pulses into her bloodstream. The sadist in him rejoices. His hand surrounds her fragile neck, and Andrea chokes on her fear. How foolish of her, and the epiphany is three years late.

"Philip?" She pleads with him, and a glimpse of a smile danced on his lips.

Finally, Andrea slaps the hand, which continues to warm her cheek. Philip presses his fingers into her nape, and he drags Andrea forward with a strong pull. Her cries shatter the quiet warm night, and she can't resist when he drags her out of the car.

"loose ends. What did I tell you about loose ends." He chastises her as he will do with a stubborn child.

The red door is closer with each step, and Andrea's mind races to her baby sister. Amy's name is heavy on Andrea 's tongue, and she wants to warn her. Although, Philip silences her with a backhand slap.

" shushhh." He reiterates, and Andrea faces a stranger.

"I…" her words drown in sorrow and sobs.

She attempts to stop the motion, but her feet can't sink in the tarmac. Philip continues to drag her by the nape until the red door. They both stand at the entrance, and he softly knocks at the door. Andrea's heart shatters, and she is too late. She closes her eyes afraid to see what is behind the closed door.

"No need for explaining. The rules were laid out for you. No loose ends, no straying from the plan or there will be consequences." Philip's anger finally surfaces.

He frees Andrea's nape to take hold of her hand. Forcefully, he intertwines their fingers, and Andrea's palm is moist. Her heart constricts, and her lungs cling on her ribs cage.

"Philip?" She silently questions him on her fate, but he answers with a soft smile.

She can't take, and the bitterness rises from the deep recess of her stomach. Her saliva is thick on her tongue, and her throat burns. The bastard after everything, which did for him. The bastard is going to kill her sister and her. The door opens before Andrea regains her grip on reality.

For a few seconds, she faces a pair of familiar blue eyes. Although, she can't pinpoint where she first saw the man. Soon, she does not care about where and when she saw him. There is blood on his fingers. He seems agitated, and she remembers the expression, which he wears on his beautifully fragile features. She wore this expression of dilemma three years ago. A recruit, he is an addition. She is nothing more than an initiation test to him. Her sister, Amy, and she searched the room. There is a bright red spot on the sofa.

"Amy…Amy…Amy." Andrea cries in fury, and she fights out of Philip's hold.

"shushhh, darling. Loose ends." He kisses Andrea's temple, and he pushes her toward the man with blue eyes.

"so do you have what it takes? A crying, pleading, and desperate woman. Can you do it? I heard you were quite the officer friendly, Rick."


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm back and happy new years of the pig.**

 **Thanks for the reviews and follows.**

 **I don't own the walking dead.**

 **Please, review**

* * *

 **Chapter XII: Wrecking Wednesday and Tortuous Thursday (part I)**

* * *

 **Thursday 10: 20 p.m.**

…

 **..**

 **.**

The red door and the yellow walls make the house distinguishable from any other house in the area. Andrea does not want to allow any emotion to slip, but she is close to having a mini breakdown. She stares at Philip, and he is stoic. She expects him to drive past her childhood home, but Philip abruptly slams the car's break.

For a second, they stare at the small suburb home, and the tension grows in the car. Breathing becomes hard for Andrea, and pearls of tears start to cluster around the inner corner of her eyes. Philip's large hands frame her face, and for the first time in three years, Andrea notices how cold his palms are. She wants to shove his hands away, but she does nothing.

"Shush." He quietly whispers as tears start to leak from Andrea's closed lids.

Philip's fingers dig in Andrea's cheeks. His grip on her face is tight, and his words are not comforting. Andrea's vision blurs, but she continues to stare at Philip's bright blue eyes.

"What are we doing here?" Andrea's voice breaks at the end of her statement.

Philip's thumbs wipe her lower lids, and Andrea wants to slap his hands. She has no strength, and she wants to cling onto her delusion. How dumb of her. Why did she tell him the truth about Amy's call?

"I think you have an idea, sweetheart." He answers while his hand slides from her cheek to her neck.

Philip's fingertips caress Andrea's thready pulse. He almost can hold the fear, which pulses into her bloodstream. The sadist in him rejoices. His hand surrounds her fragile neck, and Andrea chokes on her fear. How foolish of her, and the epiphany is three years late.

"Philip?" She pleads with him, and a flash of a smile dances on his lips.

Finally, Andrea slaps the hand, which continues to warm her cheek. Philip presses his fingers into her nape, and he drags Andrea forward with a strong pull on her hair. Her cries shatter the quiet warm night. When he drags her out of the car, Andrea can't resist the traction.

"Loose ends. What did I tell you about loose ends?" Philip chastises her, as he will do with a stubborn child.

The red door is closer with each step, and Andrea's mind races to her baby sister. Amy's name is heavy on Andrea's tongue, and she wants to warn her. Although, Philip silences her with a backhand slap.

"Shushhh." He reiterates, and Andrea faces a stranger.

"I…" Her words drown in sorrows and sobs.

She attempts to stop the motion, but her feet can't sink in the tarmac. Philip continues to drag her by the nape until the red door. They stand at the entrance, and he softly knocks at the door. Andrea's heart shatters, and she is too late. She closes her eyes afraid to see what is behind the closed door.

"There is no need for an explanation. I laid out the rules for you. No loose ends, no straying from the plan or there will be consequences." Philip's anger finally surfaces.

He frees Andrea's nape to take hold of her hand. Forcefully, he intertwines their fingers, and Andrea's palm is moist. Her heart constricts, and her lungs cling on her ribs cage.

"Philip?" She silently questions him on her fate, but he answers with a soft smile.

Andrea can't take it, and the bitterness rises from the deep recess of her stomach. Her saliva is thick on her tongue, and her throat burns. The bastard after everything, which did for him. The bastard is going to kill her sister and her. The door opens before Andrea regains her grip on reality.

For a few seconds, she faces a pair of familiar blue eyes. Although, she can't pinpoint where she first saw the man.

Soon after the thought, Andrea does not care about where and when she saw him. There is blood on his fingers. He seems agitated, and she remembers the expression, which he wears on his beautifully fragile features. She wore this expression of dilemma three years ago. A recruit, he is an addition. She is nothing more than an initiation test to him. She searched the room for her sister, Amy. There is a bright red spot on the sofa.

"Amy…Amy…Amy." Andrea cries in fury, and she fights out of Philip's hold.

"Shushhh, darling. Loose ends." He kisses Andrea's temple, and he pushes her toward the man with blue eyes.

"So, do you have what it takes? She is a crying, pleading, and desperate woman. Can you do it? I heard that you were the officer friendly, Rick." Philip turns to Rick.

Rick looks terrified, and his skin has a horrid pallor to it. He takes a deep breath, and he looks back at Morales who stands by him. He hopes that he looks as distraught as he should be after his first kill.

"Now…" Philip encouragingly puts his hand on Rick's shoulder, "There is no need to be so stressed, Rick." He squeezes Rick's shoulder.

As in queue, Rick takes another deep breath, and he wipes the tears, which he manages to fake. After his last two days, Rick is exhausted and on edge. He simply wants to secure his exit from this world and protect Michonne.

"You see, Andrea isn't as innocent as she looks. Will you kill a criminal in your line of duty?" Philip starts a speech, which he believes to be poignant to a gullible good cop.

Rick Grimes is far from a good cop, but he never breaks out of character. Since Morales dragged him inside Amy's apartment, he has kept his officer friendly persona. Panicked when he should, and he could care less for what the narcissist calling himself the governor has to say.

"If I have to defend myself, I will consider doing it," Rick answers with a voice, which gives the illusion of false confidence.

"Think of it as a duty. Andrea, why don't you tell him everything that you did." Philip reaches for Andrea's arm, and he drags her to the centre of the room.

"Fuck you," Andrea hisses while she furiously tries to escape his hold.

"Forgive her manners, Rick. She has no mama to kiss with that mouth. Now, she doesn't have a sister too." Philip says and reminds the entire room of the dead body in the corner.

Morales laughs, and Rick pretends to withhold his vomit. His breaths are more laboured with each passing minute, and Rick's external panic stands in contradiction to his internal boredom.

"Where was I? Oh yes, have you killed, Rick? In the line of duty or for the greater good." Philip returns to the topic, which concerns him.

"He is a goody two shoes. White as snow and He doesn't have a parking ticket." Morales answers for Rick

"So what brings you to us?" Philip turns toward Rick.

"Morales made a convincing speech. Look, I love this city, and it is rotting away with all the rising crime. It doesn't matter how good you're, and someone will try to fuck you over. My wife, well, Morales helped me, and so I'm inclined to help him," Rick retrieves his voice, and he masters the emotions to express with each word.

He looks the part of the good man disillusioned with life. Rick doesn't have to look far into his memory, and he had a similar moment. He was a good cop, and he had values. Now, he could care less about a noble cause.

"And you want to do something about it?" Philip attempts to manipulate Rick with a subtle question.

"Yeah…" Rick dispassionately answers, and he remembers that he has to act like his idealistic counterpart.

"If I can help fix it, I wouldn't hesitate. Just a few days ago, someone named Negan came after my partner for no reason. It has to end." Rick deliberately draws the focus on Shane with those details.

"But are you ready to do anything for it? You must love your small community. You must have children. Atlanta is rotting, and you're right." Philip insists, and Rick wonders how this speech could work on anyone with a functioning mind.

"Men like Negan can't be stopped by the police, but we can stop them." Philip continues.

"Look at her, pretty and innocent. Doesn't look like she can hurt a fly, but she left a man to die at the hand of her beloved boyfriend, Negan. Sweet innocent Andrea killed her entire FBI squad. She is not so innocent anymore. Killing her is doing your duty, Rick." Philip starts his brainwashing propaganda.

"I did it for you," Andre cries in despair, "I killed them because you wanted me to do it." She loses her previous confidence "Philip…Philip…Philip" Andrea starts to plead with the governor as he drags her down to her knees. "Please, Philip." She attempts to delay her execution.

"Shut up, bitch." Morales hits Andrea with his gun, and Philip restrains him before he can do it a second time.

"Morales, there is no need for violence." Philip says with false indignation, "Here, shushhh. There is no need to be so dramatic. You're scaring Rick, Andrea." Philip leans down, and he cleans the stream of tears on Andrea's face.

"Are you scared, Rick?" Philip asks Rick, but after a glance, he believes to have the answer that he wants, "Obviously, You're afraid. You haven't killed anyone before, but you have seen the dead bodies, which pile in the streets. You would allow it to continue to happen. You would let your partner be the next one. Are you going to take the easy way out and wait for the law to fail?" Philip repeats the speech, which convinced Andrea, "I don't like a coward, Rick." The last words are a threat, which Philip doesn't care to hide.

Morales aims at Rick's head, as a mean of coercion. If only they knew, he could care less for Andrea Harrison's fate. Rick no longer has any use for her, and she might eventually recognize him.

"Fuck…Fuck…Fuck" Rick pretends to crumble under the weight of anxiety "She…" He stops because he knows that Philip will love to add a line to his speech.

"She is the trash, which you need to rid the city of, and she is no better than a criminal killed in the line of duty. To serve and protect, Rick." Philip encourages, and he assumes that Rick believes his propaganda.

"To serve and protect. Her boyfriend got Shane to a hospital bed. What happens if he comes after Carl and you? Don't disappoint me, Rick. Kill this bitch." Morales adds his two cents to the conversation.

"Philip, please. I did everything you wanted." Andrea pleads with an immovable Philip, and she attempts to appeal to his heart, "Philip…" She sobs "please."

"Rick, it is her or you." Philip starts to lose his patience.

He doesn't matter if Rick adheres with the ideology. As long as he can keep an eye on Mike's case, he will take what comes to him. Now, he has a greater need for Rick. Philip wants someone to spy on Shane. Why would Negan come after a detective? Perhaps, Shane could be the one controlling the Alexandrian.

"Please, don't listen to him…please…Please…please." Andrea crawls on her knee to Rick's feet, and she clings at his leg.

"Rick?" Philip questions his loyalty with a stern warning.

Rick ignores the recognition in Andrea's eyes. He looks into her eyes, and he drags his gun out of its holder. Andrea pleads with her breaking voice, and her tears fall in single drop on Rick's boots. He looks in her eyes, and he shoots right in between them. The blood splatters on his pants and his boots. The life fades from her eyes, which continue to stare at Rick. Her body drops at his feet, and her blood starts to pool around his shoes.

* * *

 ** _Flashback_**

 **Wednesday around 5: 30 a.m.**

 **.**

 **.**

Michonne awakes in a state of small panic. In the dark, she looks for the blinking red numbers on her alarm clock. The dawn starts to break into her room. Michonne pulls her body out of Rick's embrace, and she struggles to disentangle her locks from his fingers. Rick's arm continues to reach for Michonne. He subconsciously doesn't want to let her go after her confession.

"Rick?" Michonne whispers his name, and she doesn't want to alert the occupants of the house.

She adds a little shoulder shove because her voice can't arouse him. Michonne doesn't understand how Rick can sleep so heavily with his choice of career. Her voice doesn't stir him. She continues to push on Rick's chest until he reacts.

With a dexterous move, Rick reaches for Michonne's waist, and he swiftly lifts her from the bed until she straddles his waist. Michonne yelps in surprise and she stops her potential fall forward with a strong grip on Rick's shoulders. She pushes her dreadlocks back, and she sits up.

Rick's hands come to rest on Michonne's thighs. She sighs and looks at him. Rick's eyes remain sdhut, and his angelic features are frozen in a peaceful expression. Michonne brushes some loose curls away from Rick's face, and he contentedly sighs. Their newfound familiarity is only half-strange because it started to develop before their admission of love.

"Rick?" Michonne insists, and she attempts again to shake him awake.

Rick's hands flirt with the hem of Michonne's baby doll. Rick frustratedly grunts, and he has no idea why she is wearing clothes. She was naked when he fucked her to sleep. His hands continue to explore Michonne's thighs. His fingers dance between her inner thighs. Rick continues to move his hands along the curves of Michonne's body until his thumb grazes her bare vagina.

Rick sighs again while his other hand continues to pull up Michonne's baby doll. He hasn't opened his eyes, and Michonne rolls her eyes in response to his antics. She halts his hand by grabbing his wrist.

"I'm not trying to have sex with you, Cheri," She swallows her moans between words.

When his thumb starts to rub her clitoris, Michonne regretfully swats Rick's hand. She bites her tongue to suffocate another cry of pleasure when his warm hand covers her erected nipple. Rick rubs his hand on Michonne's thigh.

"Nothing else is worth waking me up, princess," Rick dejectedly points out, and he returns his arms to his side.

Michonne continues to straddle him. Her body already misses the warmth of Rick's palms and the caresses of his fingers. Michonne sighs and she glances another time at the clock. She passes her hand in his hair, and she draws Rick's sharp features with her forefinger.

"Rick? Get up. This is serious," Michonne insists, and Rick mumbles incoherent words, "This is a matter of life or death," She exhaustively states.

Michonne grabs Rick's shoulder, and she shakes him. Michonne's aggressive approach has the desired effect. In a second, Rick has a strong hold on Michonne's waist. He rolls on the side, and Michonne starts to sink in the mattress under Rick's weight. Rick cocoons her body with his body, and she regrets her poor choice of words. It is too late to prevent further damage, and Michonne's opinions on Rick's reflexes completely change.

"What are you doing?" Michonne anxiously shouts when Rick reaches for his gun in the cupboard, "There are children in this house," She swats his shoulder as she chastises him, and she attempts to poke her head out of his shielding body, "I didn't literally mean life or death. I meant it like wake up it is urgent," Michonne sighs, and she can hardly breathe with Rick laying on her like a blanket.

"Great, no one is dying," Rick nonchalantly retorts, and he remains unfazed by Michonne's mini-panic. "Where were we?" He questions while his lips lazily explore Michonne's neck and he returns his gun to the cupboard.

…

…..

….

..

Rick's hands return to Michonne's thighs, and he parts her legs to settle between them. His hard dick brushes Michonne's growingly damp slits. Rick's lips draw small patterns along her jaws. He nibbles and sucks until quiet exquisite sounds leave Michonne's lips. She looks at Rick with slight incredulity at the change of his demeanour. She wonders if he recycles his adrenaline into sexual arousal.

Rick's lips cover Michonne's ones. He gently rolls his tongue on her lower lips. Rick samples a taste of Michonne's on the tip of his tongue, and he flirts with her senses. His fingers flirt with her skin, but he doesn't touch her. Michonne's hands waltz on Rick's back. Michonne's fingers leave burning caresses along his defined muscles.

"Rick, get up," Michonne unconvincingly demands "You're suffocating me, and you're trying to distract me." She complains.

"Alright," Rick says as he returns their body to their initial position.

"You need to get out," Michonne continues.

Rick's hand halts and his facial expression hardens. Michonne's constant emotional dilemma exhausts him. Rick has shared his feeling, and he intends to stand by his confession.

"It is too early for this shit," Rick quietly warns Michonne, "and I'm just trying to have a lazy fuck. I'm not fucking another I love you out of you, and don't try this girl's talk shit." His words ooze with months of restrained frustration. "Right now, let's do the wisest thang and consider my state of exhaustion, princess. If you want to play games, I'm far too gone." He finishes with a depreciative tone.

"Rick," Michonne says with a neutral tone.

She doesn't know if she should be exasperated or indignant about his lack of faith in her. Although, Michonne can't blame Rick for making assumption while using their past situations as the foundation of his beliefs. Michonne sighs and she runs her finger in Rick's curls.

"You said it, and so own it." He finishes with a clear intent to silence any argument.

Michonne stares at Rick. She lacks the appropriate words to correct his misconception. Her thumb maladroitly caresses his cheek. Rick sighs, and he halts her hand.

"I'm fucking tired of coddling your feelings." He expresses a bitter grievance, and he intertwines their fingers, "For once, return the favour, princess. It might have escaped you while you were busy portraying me as a monster, but I love you more than I want to or believe to be healthy." Rick pours his heart to Michonne.

The vulnerability, which she never attributed to Rick, overwhelms Michonne. She stares at Rick, and she watches him express his fears. For the first time, Michonne doesn't have to compartmentalize his different sides. She no longer needs those excuses to explain her love for Rick.

"I'm not going to beg for it, and I will surely not take those crumbs, which you have thrown my way. Own up to your shit or walk away while I'm still kind enough to let you go. Don't worry you don't have to fuck me, and I will hold on my side of the bargain. No fucking arrangement will satisfy me, and you walk the fuck away while I'm in rational about," Michonne interrupts Rick.

"Shut up," Michonne presses her forefinger to Rick's lips, and she ultimately frames his face with her hands, "I love you, and that is going to be a fact for a long time. I think forever sounds like a decent compromise." She genuinely adds with tenderness in her voice.

"I love you, and that is not the problem," Michonne confidently says, and she leans down to kiss Rick passionately until her touch can consume any of his doubts, "But I need you to get in your clothes and out of my room. I'm not explaining to Carl why his very much married father slept in my room," Michonne explains after ending their kiss.

"I love you too." Rick decides to put his selective hearing to use.

…

…..

….

..

He continues to run his hands along her curves. Rick's hands rest on Michonne's waist, and he pulls her baby doll up until he reveals her naked lower half. Michonne exasperatedly stares at Rick. He can be very single-minded. He easily switches between emotional to carnal.

"Did you hear what I said?" She questions him.

"You said a lot of thangs that I call bullshit, and you love me." He casually replies.

Rick easily uses his grip on Michonne's waist to reposition her around his narrow waist. He perfectly aligns her wet pussy with his throbbing dick. His fingers continue to push the hem of her baby doll higher until it rides her nipples. Rick slightly sits up to kiss Michonne's stomach. His tongue flirts with her skin.

"Great, you're fluent in the language," Michonne counters, and she grabs Rick's chin to tilt his head so he can look into her eyes. She places a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Now, you can go sleep on the couch," Michonne says without conviction as she raises her arms to help Rick remove her baby doll.

Carelessly, Rick discards the garment. His hands latch on Michonne's bare skin. Michonne leans down, and she rests her forehead on Rick's one. She stares into the disarming blue of his eyes. Her chest pressed to his, Michonne's heart borrows the slow rhythm of Rick's heart. Michonne's nose grazes Rick's one. Her hair covers their visages like a curtain protecting their modesty. Michonne draws a deep breath.

"I do love you," She reaffirms her statement, and Michonne needs to hear herself say those words because she denied it as long as she could. "I love you," She insists with unwavering commitment, "and you aren't going to let it be my downfall, right," Michonne bares her fear for Rick to see.

"I want a life with you. One of those lives that the fancy women like you wants. Suburbs, four children, dogs, and expensive holiday trips in the Caribe. I swear that I will give you that boring life if you want it," Rick silences Michonne's fears with his sincerity.

Michonne looks at Rick, and she believes his promises with blind faith.

"Four children sound good, but I absolutely hate the suburbs." She humours Rick.

Her gleeful laugh feels the room, and it dissipates the remaining tension. Rick has had little opportunity to see Michonne unguarded, and her laugh is beautifully melodic. He wants her happiness to flow through him.

Rick's lips cover Michonne's ones. He languidly runs his tongue on her lower lips until he draws out Michonne's animalistic side with the growing passion in the teasing dance of his tongue. Rick's teeth sink in Michonne's bottom lip. He pulls on the bruising flesh, and his tongue runs along it to erase the harm of his teeth.

Rick slides one hand between their joint melted bodies, and his hand possessively curls around Michonne's pussy. The proof of her arousal coats Rick's teasing fingers. He parts her slits, and his fingers flirt with the entrance of her feminine chore. There is a promise of pleasure, but Rick imposes a punitive restraint to Michonne. He allows the fantasy of his touch to grow in Michonne while he does very little to extinguish the fire, which he has started to feed.

"Tell me you want me deep inside you, princess," Rick's husky voice carries his quiet plea, and his lips continue to brush Michonne's one.

Too disoriented for cohesive sentence, Michonne nods with lazy smirk stretching her lips. Her hand closes around Rick's erected manhood, and she rubs his penis. Michonne slightly rises, and she aligns Rick's penis with her vaginal entrance.

"Fuck," Rick moans when Michonne's vagina slowly stretches around his length.

She slowly takes inches of his dick, and her waist rhythmically moves. Michonne's nails sink into Rick's shoulders. Her quiet moans fill the room and overlap with the wet sounds of their slapping skin.

Rick's tongue licks every inch of Michonne's satin skin, which he can access, and his knuckles lazily brush her stomach. He nuzzles her neck and runs his nose along her collarbone.

Head thrown back, Michonne is a glorious equestrian. Michonne's dreadlocks fly at every bounce, and her skin glistens under the hue of dawn breaking through the curtain. She is beautiful, and Rick has the urge to remind her that he loves her. She must read his mind because she graces him with a soft smile when another moan leaves her lips.

"No…" Michonne presses Rick's chest when he attempts to switch their position. "I'm in charge." She whispers against his lips while her heartbeat settles into a fast gallop.

The sound of Michonne's dulls to leave her only aware of Rick's voice when he starts to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. The rays of the sun beautifully play on Rick's sharp features. His pale skin gains an underlying golden taint. He kisses her while his hand continues to crawl along the curvature of her neck. Rick allows Michonne to ride him until she reaches orgasm while his thumb rubs her clitoris.

His dominant nature quickly resurfaces, and he switches their positions. Rick places one of Michonne's leg on his shoulder. He thrust into her with vigour, and she can't recover from her orgasm.

"Rick…" She cries when he hits her spot, and Michonne is increasingly wet. "Oh…yes." She sobs as his teeth graze her neck and his dick reach deeper into her contracting walls. Rick's strokes are more precise and hard. "Oh, mon Dieu." Michonne comes again while Rick continues to explore her body.

He sucks, licks, and whispers words, which drive Michonne mad. Rick continues to thrust until Michonne's waist rolls coerce an orgasm out of him. He carefully lies on top of Michonne, and he doesn't do the effort to pull out. Rick's dick still fills Michonne's wall. She threads her fingers in his curls, and the sounds of their heavy breaths disturb the silence.

"The children?" Michonne embarrassingly questions.

"Funny thangs, this is how you make them," Rick teases, and he finally moves.

"Rick…" Michonne swats his shoulder "Do you think they heard us?" She asks with slight embarrassment.

"Us or you? My ego didn't need it, but my dick taught you, French." Rick playfully mocks Michonne.

"My mother is Haitian." She corrects him, and it feels so appropriate to share personal details with Rick.

Slowly, she is making space for Rick into her life far from the craziness, which propelled her into his world. She rests her head on Rick's chest. She adorns his breastbone with small kisses.

"I know, but I chose to believe that I fucked the French out of you. A man needs such victories for his ego." Rick replies.

"The couch, now before we add to the children's trauma," Michonne exasperatedly orders Rick.

Rick leaves the bed, and he slides into his boxer brief. He climbs back into the bed, and he passionately kisses Michonne. Rick's arm circles Michonne's waist, and he impossibly presses her body to his. His tongue's strokes coerce more moans out of Michonne's mouth.

"I love you, princess," He whispers against Michonne's lips.

"I get it," Michonne responds with a blinding grin on her lips.

* * *

 **Wednesday around 8 a.m.**

 **.**

 **.**

The moment is a bit awkward, and the silence adds to the tension in the kitchen. Michonne quietly places the breakfast on the table, and she has made a mountain of pancakes to alleviate her stress. She looks between father and son, and she assumes that they rarely share the same table. Michonne draws a deep breath, and she kisses the crown of Andre's head. Her son is the only person in the room obvious to the tension.

With random question asked to Carl, Andre disturbs the silence. To Michonne, it is strange how her son's timid nature disappear around the Grimes. Michonne placed Andre in his chair, and now, he is struggling to leave it. Carl stands to help him get down.

"Thank you, Carl." Andre struggles with the words, and S replaces the t.

After extensive practice last night, Andre can properly pronounce Carl. Once down, He walks up to Rick because he is accustomed to having his breakfast sitting on Rick's lap. Andre taps on Rick's leg to request assistance. Rick's lifts Andre's, and he sits him on his lap.

"Hi, peanut," Rick says as he ruffles Andre's hair, and the toddler gleefully laughs. "So did you sleep well, little buddy?" He asks when Andre's laugh quiets down.

Andre nods, and he proceeds to make Rick laugh, "I had my Spiderman jajama" He proudly displays his pyjama.

Carl quietly observes the interaction between Andre and his father. He envies the easiness to it. He stares at the pair, and Michonne doesn't miss the slight discomfort. She places a comforting hand on Carl's shoulder while she places the omelettes on the table.

"Andre, why don't you sit in your chair today, peanut?" Michonne says as she picks her son from Rick's lap.

She doesn't want Carl to feel excluded from the dynamic. Michonne doesn't want Carl to feel as if his father is better at being a father to everyone but him. Andre stares at Rick, and he is ready to throw a tantrum. Michonne looks at him with a pleading expression. Carl had a difficult night, and he deserves a peaceful morning.

Michonne attempts to compromise, and she sits her son on her lap. Andre looks between Rick and Michonne. Andre stubbornly comes down of Michonne's lap, and he returns to Rick's lap. Michonne sighs and she apologetically glances at Carl, who remains stoic. She stands to go pick Andre again.

"It's okay, and this is our little thang. It's an 'Andre and me' time." Rick says when Michonne attempts again to pick Andre up. "He doesn't like his chair." He adds for Carl.

Carl answers with a quiet smile. He looks at the dynamic between Andre, Michonne, and his father. Anyone can recognize a routine. A routine in which Michonne is doing her best to help him fit. There is a rising bitterness in Carl. He wants to be part of this routine.

"Carl doesn't like his chair," Andre announces as a matter of fact after a glance at a quiet Carl.

Andre recognizes the expression of sadness on Carl's features, but he attributes it to a familiar discomfort. He is only sad at breakfast when he sits in his chair, and Carl must have the same problem.

Andre looks up to Rick with the expectation that he would propose a solution. Rick doesn't know how to proceed, and he doesn't know what topic to explore. A three-year-old is easier to please than a tween boy. Around Andre, Rick feels more confident into stepping in a paternal role. He wants to be able to do the same with Carl.

"Are you okay, Carl?" Rick dares to ask while Michonne silently encourages him to engage into a conversation.

Rick ruffles Andre's hair, and he doesn't offer the solution, which Andre wants. Andre sighs, and he wants to resolve the issue of Carl's chair.

"Carl, sit on mama." He proposes with a pleased expression.

"I think I'm too heavy to sit on Michonne's lap," Carl replies to humour Andre.

"Ok…I sit on mama and you, Rick." Andre regretfully says, but he wants Carl to be happy.

He steps down of Rick's lap. Andre expectantly stares at Carl. He is willing to share his mother and his beloved spot on Rick's lap with Carl. The selfless act warms Carl's heart, and it feels like a promise that he has his place in this routine. Andre is willing to share with Carl, and Carl reciprocates the generous feeling.

"That's okay, you don't have to move for me, and you fit better on Dad's lap." Carl replies, "I'm just too old to sit on anyone's lap." Carl finishes with a genuine smile.

"I'm old too." Andre indignantly points out, and he moves back on Rick's lap to have a better view of the table.

With those words, the tension in the room melts. Aside from Andre, who stands by his claim, everyone on the table laughs.

"You're a big boy, peanut" Michonne agrees to placate her son.

...

….

…

..

The breakfast is uneventful, and everyone carefully chooses his words. Although, the silent has ceased to be heavy. Now, the silences are only welcome breaks between Andre's endless tirades. A fragile comfort has started to settle in the room, and the Grimes men are afraid to destroy it.

Michonne with insistent looks attempts to coerce Rick into a conversation with Carl. He sternly returns her glares. Andre is having the most animated conversation with Carl over why he loves pancake, and he later redirects his attention on Rick's curls. Many days later, Andre continues to have a fascination for Rick's hair. Michonne no longer bothers to tell him not to pull on Rick's hair because Rick always indulges him.

"So you know Michonne?" Carl dares to ask when he becomes convinced that nothing could threaten the comfort of this moment.

Rick poses, and he keeps Andre from climbing on his shoulder. He looks at Michonne to ask silently for help. She encouragingly smiles to him, and she mouths, "Say something. He is trying to have a conversation with you."

Rick steals a page out of her book, and he rolls his eyes at her obvious statement. Andre presses his palms against Rick's temples, and he is a source of comfort to Rick. If he is not so bad with Andre, there is no reason why he should fail with Carl.

"Somethang like that," Rick casually says, and Michonne kicks his calves under the table. "I said somethang." He mouths to Michonne, and she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, your father and I know each other. It isn't somethang like that." Michonne decides to intervene before Rick can make any damage with his nonchalance. "Detective Grimes, explain to Carl why we know each other," Michonne redirects the conversation.

Michonne puts Rick in a spot where he doesn't stay in his comfort zone. She glares at him in a way, which informs Rick that he must speak with Carl. They will be no toys or comic books to give to alleviate his guilt. From now on, Rick will be present. He will talk to his son

"Do you remember that case, which I told you about last Saturday?" Rick asks Carl. "The one that you helped me crack." He adds as a way to lengthen the conversation.

"Yes, is she okay?" Carl asks with interest, and he latches on the opportunity to navigate familiar waters.

Talking about Rick's big case is a tradition. Carl likes to hear them, and so he relaxes. Father and son ease in the conversation.

"Michonne and Andre are fine," Rick replies with a small smirk, "I'm protecting them." He proudly adds.

"You're protecting Michonne and Andre from the bad guys," Carl repeats with slight excitement, and he has so many questions on the tip of his tongue.

Carl's jovial expression reassures Rick. He might have a chance of success to this father thing. Seeing pride for his achievement in Carl's eye is worth the effort. Rick stares at his son, and he regrets taking so much time to step into his role.

"Yep, your dad has to keep Andre and me safe because of his work on my husband's homicide," Michonne says.

She looks between Rick and Carl, and she understands their silent need for privacy. Michonne lifts Andre from Rick's laps, and she decides conveniently to leave the room. Carl and Rick need alone time to create an intimate dynamic now that the secrets no longer exist between them.

"I'm going to give Andre a needed bath. If you need anything, just call for me. Same goes for you detective Grimes," Michonne says while she walks out.

Andre demands to return to the ground because around so many male figures he wants to be a big boy. Mike wasn't the most affectionate nor was he the most dedicated father. With Rick around, Andre has the most primal need to imitate. Andre wants to be a small man. He wants to be like Rick.

Once returned to the ground, Andre runs to Rick to hug him goodbye. He hugs Rick's calves as he always does.

"Bye, Rick." He says with a bright smile.

"Andre, you're just going to take a shower," Michonne says with an amused smile. She can't explain Andre's attachment to Rick, but she is glad it exists, "When Detective Grimes leaves, you can say bye to him. Now, let's go." She finishes and waits at the door for her son to join her.

"Michonne?" Carl hesitantly calls.

"Yes, Carl?" She softly replies with an encouraging smile.

"Can I play with Andre once he is done with his bath?" Carl asks because Andre and his tales are a great distraction.

Last night, the mindless stories kept his mind away from Lori. Carl genuinely likes Andre. He feels useful for taking care of someone else.

"Bye, Carl." Andre runs to Carl, and he hugs Carl's calves too.

Andre stays longer attached to Carl. Michonne smiles at her son antics. Andre has adopted another Grimes as his own. Michonne shakes her head, and she feels the same as Andre about Carl.

"He would love too," Michonne pries Andre from Carl's legs because he is now attempting to chew on Carl's jean. "You call me if you need anything. I will have a bath running for you once I'm done with Andre." She squeezes Carl's shoulder because she doesn't know how he will react to any other form affection.

"Thank you." Carl timidly says, and he surprises Michonne by hugging her.

* * *

Everything feels less oppressive. Rick watches Carl move his food around his plate. Carl's anxiety hasn't disappeared. Rick stands from his chair, and he walks up to Carl. Without a word, he leans down and hugs his son. Rick's hug is bone crushing, and he pours in everything, which he fears to verbalize inadequately.

Carl returns his father's hug with the same intensity. His anxiety and melancholy melt under the warmth of Rick's arms. Carl hides his face into Rick's chest. The weight on Carl's shoulders continues to become lighter. They hugged for as long as Carl's need, and they eventually break apart.

"After last night, I needed one," Rick says while he takes a seat closer to Carl.

"Me too." Carl becomes more inclined to show his vulnerability after seeing that Rick has no problem doing the same.

"So?" Rick continues to be hesitant about his words, but the reasons are no longer the same.

Rick doesn't fear to fail completely at being a father. He fears that his words might convey the wrong message to Carl. He doesn't want Carl to believe that he has to show restraint. Rick wants Carl to open up to him. Rick wants him to be as carefree as Andre is, and so using Michonne's parenting style is the obvious choice. He can hear her pestering him about the need for communication.

"Did you sleep well?" Rick starts with the easiest topic.

"Andre let me share his bed, and he gave me a bear to keep me safe," Carl answers with a quiet voice.

Although, Carl's initial discomfort has disappeared. He ultimately starts to eat his cold food. Rick notices that his son's demeanour is slightly different.

"Andre is a sweet kid. He reminds me of you when you were his age, but you were a lot more adventurous. Getting hurt while climbing on everythang that you could climb. It is a miracle you're still in one piece." Rick recalls with fondness, and he ruffles Carl's hair.

"The bear keeps Andre's nightmares away." Rick shares the anecdote with his son.

Rick surprisingly remembers the small details of a strange conversation with Andre about his teddy bear. Rick smirks at the thought. He gets his confidence in that memory.

"I know a teddy bear won't fix everything, but you can tell me how to help. You can tell me anythang. If I do it wrong, you tell me. I will ask Michonne, and she is good at this parenting thang. She can teach me." Rick genuinely says

He means every word, and Carl doesn't miss the sincerity in Rick's eyes. Therefore, Rick's words comfort Carl. Carl draws a deep breath, and he reaches out.

"You're doing great, dad." He reassures Rick.

"Michonne is great too," Carl adds, and a slight blush covers his cheek as he speaks of Michonne. "She came to check on me four times." He shares with a quiet fondness for Michonne, which reassures Rick. "We talked about the manga that we are reading. I didn't want to talk about everything else, and so…" Carl doesn't know what words befit the situation.

As much he likes Michonne, Carl wants to have this complex and poignant conversation with Rick. He needs his father to heal the wounds, which left his heart bleeding. Everything goes beyond Lori's psychological abuse. Rick must soothe the ache, which his absence created.

"Michonne?" Rick asks with uncertainty, "You're okay with Michonne? I mean you would tell me…" He pursues with hope.

"She makes me feel safe," Carl doesn't have to think about his answer, and the words stand as undebatable truth, "When Uncle Shane would come over, and I couldn't stand the noise…" He stops for a minute and glances at Rick, "I would come to sit on her porch." Carl points at a spot on the porch through the kitchen's Windows.

Rick carefully hides his rage, and he doesn't want to imagine his son alone during the night on a stranger porch. The guilt underlaps Rick's anger. He desires to make Lori pay for being so insensitive toward their son. Rick is ashamed of his part in the horrid treatment of Carl.

Distance and lack of communication are things, which can no longer plague his relationship with Carl. Therefore, he hides his frustration and anger with Lori. Carl should not censure his truths because of Rick's violent reaction. Rick deeply inhales, and he does his best to listen and comfort Carl.

"Michonne would leave blanket for me and bring me something to eat. She will come out and stay with me. She made me feel safe, and I wasn't alone," Carl continues to speak.

His voice trembles and the tears line the rim of his lower eyelids. There is the hesitation to pursue. The fear of a potential abandonment by Rick hasn't completely vanished. Therefore, Carl swallows what he has to say and forces a poor imitation of a smile on his lips.

"I'm here now. I will stay this time. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here now…I'm here now," Rick repeats the last sentence multiple times until Carl believes him.

"Michonne didn't abandon me on her porch. Michonne wouldn't just give me a blanket and leave. She wouldn't force me to speak. Michonne didn't force me to do anything." Carl's statements cut deep into Rick's soul.

He knows those are blatant accusations directed to him and Lori. After years of different abandonment's level, Carl's experience with parenting came from a stranger. Michonne cared for him. She didn't give him a blanket and pray for the best.

If he could consciously express it, Carl would say that Michonne didn't offer him comic and toys while hoping that a weekend could palliate the damage caused by her absence. Carl doesn't have to point a finger, and Rick accepts the truth.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now." He says with every inch of conviction.

Carl simply nods, but he has too much to say. Therefore, he continues to explain why he is so attached to a woman, who should be a stranger to him.

"She said the porch was mine first, and so I didn't have to leave it. She stayed with me because she didn't want me to be alone on a porch at night. I didn't want to be alone, and she became my friend. I felt safe with her," Carl insists on what he wants Rick to understand.

Carl didn't run to a stranger, but he ran to a friend. He ran to his refuge. Rick understands every emotion, which fuels Carl's words. When Rick needs a refuge too, he runs to Michonne.

"Sounds like Michonne. Is it why you came to her last night?" Rick knows the answer to his question, but he understands that Carl is willing to speak.

"I knew that she would protect me from mom. I knew that she would keep me safe. She always helped me every time not to feel alone. I knew Michonne would protect me. You weren't there, and so I thought Michonne could keep me safe until you come to pick me up. You promised to come to pick me." The words quickly pour out of Carl's mouth. "You promised to come to pick me up…" He needs confirmation.

Carl is trying to get every word out before his voice breaks. Although, the tears already smear his cheeks. The trauma of last night is still fresh on his mind. The cut on his face has yet to close, and the skin around it has bruised. The wounds on Carl's arm dug by Lori's nail are red and painful.

Rick drags Carl into another hug, and this time, Carl sobs. He repeats the same question a hundred time while his face is hidden in Rick's chest. Carl's words are unclear, and his sobs swallowed them. However, Rick hears each of them loud and clear.

"I'm glad you ran to Michonne. You did the smartest thing." Rick cajoles Carl into calming down. "Listen, Carl, I was serious last night, and I would have come to pick as I promised." Carl hears Rick' sincerity, and it becomes the assurance, which he needs, "I'm going to be a better father. I can't say I will be the best from start, but I will work toward being the best dad. I will make sure that you feel safe every time," Rick assures his son of his new dedication to him.

"You're keeping Michonne and Andre safe right now and…" Carl quietly starts to speak, but he stops a bit ashamed.

Rick has prioritized his job over his family countless times, and Carl doesn't expect a complete change in two days. Protecting Michonne and Andre is part of his father's work, and he doesn't want to feel bitter about it. Therefore, he settles for quiet envy.

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean that I won't make you a priority. My family is the priority. You're my priority." Rick corrects Carl.

"Lori isn't going to hurt you again, and I promise to give you as much time as you want. I can get someone else to watch over Michonne." He proposes to appease Carl.

"I know…" Carl confidently answers, and he rightfully believes his father "but I want you to keep Michonne and Andre safe." He continues, "I want to help keep them safe maybe…" Carl hesitates on what he intends to say.

He remembers the dynamic during breakfast. Carl thinks about the concessions, which Andre was willing to make to accommodate him. Carl's heart warms at the thought of Michonne fussing over him. He wants to carve out a space for him in their routine. Having people who care for him feels strange, but Carl doesn't want to lose that feeling.

"Maybe?" Rick encourages Carl to finish his sentence.

"Do you think Michonne will mind if I stay with her? And so you can protect all of us, and I can help," Carl asks with fragile hope.

"We might have to ask her, but I think she wasn't planning to let you go anywhere," Rick answers and he is eager to inform Michonne, "Prin…Michonne" He corrects himself before he can make his relationship with Michonne known.

"Andre's room and he needs another speech on how to be a big boy. I have a crisis here," Michonne shouts her answer from Andre's room while she attempts to gain her son's cooperation.

"Let's go see what that crisis is," Rick finally pulls away from Carl.

….

…

..

.

The streams of tears have dried on Carl's cheek, and the white marks stain his face. Rick's shirt is wet, but he could care less about it. He hugs Carl another time because he didn't lie about wanting to hug his son endlessly since last night. Rick simply has the paternal need to confirm that irremediable harms didn't come to his son. He releases Carl, and they join Michonne.

"You're okay?" Michonne asks Carl as soon as he walks into Andre's room.

She notices the dry stream of tears, and Michonne questioningly glares at Rick. He sighs at Michonne's overprotectiveness. Rick shakes his head, and he walks up to Andre.

"I'm okay. Dad helped, and he talked to me." Carl answers and he instinctively adds the last sentence.

Carl is observant, and he notices that Michonne wouldn't hesitate to chew and spit Rick out if he caused Carl more turmoil.

"That is good then." Michonne says as she picks one of Andre's wet wipes to clean the dry stream of tears on Carl's cheeks, "I'm sorry." She mouths her apology to Rick, and she wants to take it back as a cocky smirk rises on his lips.

"What is he doing?" Carl regains Michonne's attention, and he points at Andre.

Andre moves around his room clothed in a sky blue bathrobe with a hood and humongous rabbit ears. In his small hands, he carefully holds his toys and moves it from one spot to another. Some toys finish on his bed, and others end up in Rick's hands. After, he starts to pick his clothes from his cupboards and places them on his bed.

" Making space for you, and he refuses to dress up until he finishes," Michonne replies with an amused tone, " I think Andre is excited to have a new friend, but the room is definitely too small for two." She continues to speak.

Michonne's statement slightly disappoints Carl, and he doesn't dare to ask what he wanted. He magisterially hides his sadness by force of habit. He looks up to Rick with a peeved expression.

"Carl, you can move to this room, and Andre moves with me in my room," Michonne finally finishes what she has to say.

Carl's answer is a crushing hug, which Michonne returns with similar enthusiasm. Michonne slightly feared that Carl wouldn't want to stay around them having the illusion that Andre would monopolize Rick.

"That entire arrangement is a pretty thang, but where does that leave me?" Rick asks when he finally convinces Andre to wear his clothes.

"The couch is all yours,"

* * *

 **Wednesday around 1 p.m.**

 **.**

 **.**

Lori straightens her posture, and she focuses on her performance. Eyes reddened after shedding many tears, she stares at the police officer across her. Words for words, she tells a story, which she practised the entire night.

She assures that her body language indicates anguish and terror. Lori doesn't allow the anger, which she truly feels, to disrupt her perfect performance. She rubs her neck where Rick's fingers left ugly red marks.

"Detective Grimes? Rick Grimes who cares for the kitty across the road." The police officer says in disbelief.

The anecdote about the kitty proves a point.

Rick is meticulous with the details on his officer friendly persona, and he does leave milk for a street cat. Lori's entire story with the associated lies would be hard to believe for anyone familiar with Rick. Therefore, Theodore Douglas, who is an acquaintance of Rick and the officer taking her statement, hardly believes what he has heard.

"It doesn't sound very much in character, Lori." Theodore can't stop those words.

"Is it how you treat the victim? Theodore" Lori indignantly asks.

The sobs become louder, and Lori knows how to win sympathy for her cause. Rick needs a lesson, and she will teach him one. Lori refuses to go down without a fight, and his bitch next door would not take him away from her.

"No, it was unprofessional of me. I'm sorry, Lori." He apologizes and attempts to remain focused.

"I would like to press charge for assault and conjugal violence," Lori leads the conversation.

"Do you have any proof supporting your accusation against detective Grimes," Theodore asks reluctantly, and he looks at Lori's neck.

Theodore doesn't want to ruin a good cop's life. In all her planning, Lori didn't disregard the solidarity in the force. She has always heard Shane talking about how his colleagues covered some of his illegal actions, and she chose to come to make her statement in Rick's office with that knowledge. Rick will receive her message.

"Will this be enough?" She drags the collar of her shirt down to show the choking mark.

"Anyone could have choked you, Lori. It could have happened during sex," Theodore eagerly counters, "With what I heard Walsh was into, it wouldn't surprise me." He mumbles the last part to alleviate his consciousness for not believing Lori.

"It wasn't anyone but my husband. He also attacked our son, and he took Carl, God knows where." She adds more to her initial lies.

She intends to convince Carl to lie when she gets him back. Lori knows how to twist every single thought in Carl's head. Last night, she allowed her anger with Rick to blind her. Carl could have been her greatest weapon. Rick would have given up his foolish thoughts of divorce to keep his son. Lori doesn't doubt Rick's love for Carl. That knowledge added to her bitterness. He couldn't care for her, but he would make time for Carl. She didn't have the romantic dinners, but Carl had the weekend.

"So, detective Grimes has kidnapped your son." He asks without conviction.

Theodore notes the claim, but they won't leave his office. Lori knows it, and she expects it to go that way.

"Yes, it happened last night. Rick came home drunk and..." Detective Douglas interrupts Lori, and he puts his pen down.

"I will ask you to wait while I get someone from the missing person department." He almost runs out of the office.

He can't wait to dump that mess on someone's desk. Theodore is a man of duty, and he would have followed the procedure. However, his instinct made him doubt every word out of Lori's mouth. He didn't want any part of her story.

"You know detective Morales, Lori." Detective Douglas asks as he returns in the room with the other officer.

"I do." Lori looks at Morales, and she mentally prepares herself for another acting performance.

"If you want to report a kidnapping, you have to tell everything about last night to detective Morales." Theodore eagerly redirects Lori to Morales.

* * *

 **Wednesday around 1: 07 PM**

 **.**

 **.**

Michonne observes as Rick gives orders to Sasha, and as hard as she tried, she can't hear what they say. When she hears what they say, she can't understand their largo. From the secrecy and the grave expressions on their face, Michonne can't tell it concerns her deadline. Two days left until people come to collect what Mike's mistress stole. She doesn't dare to think about the situation with more accurate words. Only two days left until she becomes the target of a mob organization.

Rick stands by the door of Michonne's room. The door is half-closed, and Michonne looks at Rick's sharp profile. She attempts to read on his lips, but the task is harder than what she expected. She spends too much time focusing on his lips and very little on what comes out of his mouth. The whispers cease, and Sasha walks away.

"So?" Michonne asks when Rick steps in the room.

He glances at her from the corner of his eyes. She sits by the edge of her bed, and Rick wonders if there will be a time when he will stop finding Michonne breathtaking. She deserves every letter of nobility in her nickname. She is simply sitting on a bed looking regal, and she is about to worsen his day.

Rick sighs, and he starts to undo the button of his partially soaked shirt. Between Carl's tears and Andre resisting any attempt to dress him up, Rick's shirt couldn't survive.

"It is nothang that you would want to know, princess," Rick firmly says, and he has the naïve hope that Michonne might be inclined to indulge him.

"I should be able to decide." She counters

"Nope..." He authoritatively answers.

Rick removes his shirt, and he picks a new one. Michonne hasn't seen his more dominant side in days, but she has learned how to deal with it. She stands her ground.

"Is it another unilateral decision like keeping me prisoner in the house?" Michonne challenges Rick.

He chuckles as an answer. Of course, she would make it difficult for him. Michonne's constant need to challenge him drives Rick's mad. When given the opportunity, she is as dominant as he is. It is sexy, it is frustrating, and now it is a bit of both. Rick turns to face Michonne, and he forgets about his shirts. He leans against the closet door, and he searches through his pocket for a cigarette. He will need an emotional buffer because Michonne is going to test his non-existent patience.

"You aren't a prisoner." Rick corrects Michonne while he lights his cigarette, "You're safe in a controlled environment." He plays with a word to avoid recognizing that she isn't very free of her movement.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Rick." Michonne says with a lot of frustration, "I could help with some aspects." She insists with unwavering confidence.

Rick looks at Michonne, and his answers are to blow smoke in the air. Why does she have to complicate his life? Rick closes his eyes, and he tilts his head up for few seconds. He takes another drag of his cigarette, and he opens his eyes to stare into Michonne's brown orbs.

"No one said you were one." Rick sighs and with each of Michonne's argument, he needs more nicotine.

"What am I saying is that we are not having this conversation? You're going to sit your gorgeous ass down and act like a fucking damsel in distress." He hopes for the end of the conversation.

"We are having this argument." Michonne calmly replies.

"You don't care that I killed for less than a disagreement," Rick asks out of frustration with a slight amusement hidden between his words.

"I had sex with you after you brought a man in a trunk of your car as a courting present. I can handle you and your mobster attitude." Michonne retorts.

"You're insane," Rick says the words with more reverence that he should, and he is more impressed that he should be in the middle of an argument. "It is sexy most of the time, but in this case, you're going to use your brilliant mind and sit tight." He still doesn't back down from his positions.

"I don't want to sit tight when in two days someone will try to kill me. I need something to do, and I need to help," Michonne insists, and she finally allows her emotions to show "Rick you don't understand how it feels to have that death sentence hanging above your head." Her voice carries her despair.

"Come here, princess," Rick quietly says between lazy blows of smoke. "Chonne." He sounds more dominant and cajoling after she didn't respond.

It feels like an order, which Michonne can't refuse to obey. From the drawl on every syllable of her nickname to the sensual nonchalance that Rick's voice takes, Michonne's body closes the distance between her and Rick out of its own volition. Rick drags another round of smoke out of his cigarette and extinguishes it.

His knuckles graze Michonne's cheek, and the smell of smoke adds a subtle richness to his scent. Rick pushes a few loose dreadlocks behind Michonne's ears, and he cups her face between his palms.

"Nothang is going to happen to you or Andre." Rick confidently says while he looks into Michonne's anxious eyes.

"What of you? And now Carl?" Although Rick's confidence is reassuring, Michonne possesses legitimate fears. "I should leave and hide. I don't want to leave and hide, but I'm putting everyone in danger." She continues to expose the thoughts, which she has tried to ignore.

"Hey…breathe, Chonne," Rick whispers to Michonne as he rests his forehead against her, and Rick's thumbs softly caress Michonne's cheek.

Rick deeply inhales the air filled with her scent, and the tip of his nose dances on Michonne's skin. Michonne instinctively does what Rick suggested, and she fills her lungs with as much air as she can.

"You are panicking, and panic leads to a mistake." Rick continues to speak when Michonne is calm, "We don't want that to happen." He pursues, and his lips graze her after every word, which he whispers, "I need you to trust me." Rick pulls away from Michonne so he can see beyond her eyes. "We're a team."

"If we're a team, you need to trust me too," Michonne responds.

Her arms circles Rick's waist, and their bodies are impossibly close. The subtle scents that make Rick's perfume saturate Michonne's lungs.

"I do trust you." Rick starts to speak "and I trust that you can understand the danger out there." He finishes his statement with a teasing bite on Michonne's lower lip. "Let me take care of you, princess," Rick punctuates his statement with a demanding kiss. His hands leave Michonne's cheek to explore her curves until they settle on her ass.

Everything about Rick's kiss states a claim. The only time when he kissed Michonne with such abandon was their first kiss. His touch and caresses display possessiveness and dominance. Rick's passion overwhelms Michonne, but she returns the intensity of his kiss. His lips are bruising and demanding. He lifts her from the floor, and Rick's tongue lights Michonne blood on fire.

"I…" a knock at the door interrupts Michonne, and Rick returns her body to the floor.

"Rick?" Sasha's voice follows the knock.

Rick's phone rings, and Michonne sighs. Rick's knuckles graze Michonne's face one more time, and he walks to the door.

"Sasha?" Rick calls as he walks out of Michonne's room, and the whispers return.

He returns to the room with a serious frown marrying his expression, and Rick's demeanour changes. Michonne draws a deep breath, and she passes him the shirt, which he forgot to wear.

"I guess you were giving Sasha a new set of order to keep me a prisoner," Michonne says with exasperation.

"Nope… get ready to leave." Rick sternly responds, and he continues to stare at his phone.

….

…

..

.

"Why are we going to my mom's place?" Michonne asks to a very silent Rick.

Since his brief conversation with Sasha, he hasn't said much expect to ask Michonne to prepare for a visit to her mother. She doesn't know if she should be anxious or if she should mimic Rick's quietness. Rick glances at his phone once it rings again, and he returns his attention to Michonne as he buttons his shirt.

"Sasha needs to work on a job. She can't watch over you and the children. I need to handle a few thangs, and I can't get anyone who I trust enough to be here on time. Tyrese keeps an eye on your mother house, and he might as well keep an eye on you." Rick explains, and Michonne takes in the information.

Those are details, which she should know, but Rick is so secretive about his mobster's life. Michonne doesn't know if it is a good thing that he has someone keeping her mother safe or if Rick did it with the intent to spy on her. She reserves her thoughts for later. As for now, Rick appears to be extremely tense.

"I don't need a babysitter." She tells him as she continues to express her grievance.

"Listen, I won't say it twice. This sentimental shit isn't my thang." Every ounce of his patience has completely disappeared, "If anything happens to Carl, Andre, or you, I will lose my mind. I'm not giving any fucker the opportunity to kill any of you." Rick's statement and the passion in it silence Michonne. "I need you to cooperate. You don't have a babysitter, but you have people making sure that you're safe and alive." He finishes speaking.

"I…" Michonne starts to speak, and Rick interiors her with an exhausted sigh.

"Chonne. I can't lose you." His tone is pleading and slightly desperate.

"Okay." Michonne doesn't know what else to say.

Her misfortune with Mike has left Michonne with severe subconscious trauma. As much as she trusts Rick, Michonne doesn't completely believe that he will make her a priority. She needs to handle the matter on her own as she did after Mike.

"I need your word, princess" Rick insists, and Michonne nods

"For how long do we have to stay there?" Michonne asks Rick as she starts to walk out of the room.

"I will pick you up once I'm done with work." He replies, and he again glances at his phone with concern.

"Okay…" She hesitantly replies, and she walks out, "Carl and Andre, we have to go."

* * *

 **Wednesday 3: 45 PM**

 **.**

 **.**

Rick heads for Morales' desk, and he wonders why the other detective wants to see him. He hopes that it has nothing to do with Amy, but he can't exclude that possibility. These days are about to be the most stressful of his life, and he is burning to cigarette packet like a man with a death wish. Rick passes his hand in his hair, and he forces his mind to quiet down.

"Grimes?" Morales greets Rick as he reaches his desk.

"Morales, I got your messages. Is it something about my case?" Rick doesn't waste his time on small talk.

He needs to know if whomever Morales works for has received his message. So far, Rick starts to consider a less subtle approach to the situation. With two days left, he can't continue to be passive.

"What is this?" He inquires when Morales pushes a piece of paper, which looks like an official statement toward him.

The victorious grin on Morales' lips frustrates Rick, but he keeps his emotions in checks. Rick reads the complaint until the last line, and he returns the page to Morales.

"It is me saving your career?" Morales replies as he slowly tears down Lori's complaint. "Kidnapping, child abuse only will get you out of here and straight to jail for a few years, but your wife had many more accusations." He pulls another page and extends it toward Rick.

"She is lying," Rick answers, and he reminds himself to be his righteous self. "I have never hit her, and Carl is with a family friend." He continues with a voice sounding deeper due to the weight of his indignation.

"I really don't care about your family drama, Grimes." Morales states and he glances at Rick with a predatory smile. "I only need you to remember that you owe me." He finishes speaking and pockets Lori's second statement.

"I…" Rick pretends to care more than he does.

The shock should be the perfect choice of emotions, but internally, he is furious. Morales confirmed his suspicion, and Rick had to rethink his approach of the situation. Two days is not enough time for a subtle plan. A part of Rick wants to laugh in hysteria, and another part of him is emboldened by the possibility to unleash chaos around him.

Rick sits to emphasize his act of the shocked and betrayed good man. His facial expression is a beautiful canvas of anxious emotions. From the glistening eyes to the stress tic, he could gain sympathy from anyone.

"I just…I never…I simply asked for a divorce…After everything, she did." Rick starts to display vulnerability.

He wants Morales to believe that he would be malleable. Rick is trying to influence Morales' next move. He would exploit a man on the edge and emotionally vulnerable. He fell once for it, and that was how he took his first step into the mob world.

"Your wife talked to Douglas too. For this info, you owe me nothing, but if I handle it there will be interest." Morales adds.

"Okay." Rick dejectedly answers, and he stands to return to his desk.

"I will call in when I need that favour."

* * *

 **Wednesday around 6: 26 p.m.**

 **.**

 **.**

Rick walks into the home, which he shares with Lori, and he questions his sanity. The living room no longer carries the stigma of last night, and the lights are dimed. Rick stands in the room a bit confused by the setup. The romantic atmosphere throws him off his game.

Lori walks in the living room in a silk negligee and with nothing under. Did he walk into a parallel universe? Did she move one of her retreats in his house? Rick doesn't care to know. He lifts one of the unlit scented candles, and he questioningly stares at Lori. She approaches him with a feline dexterity, and Rick's confusion increases.

"What are you doing, Lori?" Rick asks when She reaches for the collar of his shirt.

"Hello, Rick. You are feeling better." Lori answers with the most innocent smile and sultriness in her voice.

"I don't have time for your games." He pushes her away "What Is your aim, Lori? You must have one for acting so dumb." Rick continues as he eyes the red rose petal on the floor.

Lori's attempt to seduction will have comical values any other days, but Rick only expresses annoyance with the situation tonight. She had enough years to try this farce, but now, Rick barely notices that she is naked.

"I'm reminding you that you can't take me for a fool," Lori replies with frustration and she closes her negligee. "The neighbour and you, did you think I wouldn't find out, Rick." Lori starts to shout, "You need to end it, or I will make you pay for your lack of respect." She continues into her hysterical rant.

Rick can't fathom her boldness. If he had ever cared for her liaison with Shane, Lori's hypocrisy would offend Rick. He should have ignored her. Rick shakes his head, and he prepares himself to leave the room. Lori grabs his arm to keep him glued to his spot. She caresses Rick's cheek.

"I can give you everything she does. Is it the exoticism? Maybe we can spice thing up between us." Lori's hand runs down Rick's arm.

"Stick to your qualifications and continue to ride Shane's dick or whoever able to get it up for you." Rick calmly states, and he places Lori's hand on his limp dick.

"Do you hear yourself? You are destroying our marriage for a figment of your imagination. Some petty rivalry that you have with a friend. Shane is nothing to me." Lori's attitude switches back to frustration and anger.

"Tell that to someone who cares." He abrasively replies, and he starts to walk out of the living room.

"I will ruin your life if you leave," Lori shouts at Rick, and he stops.

Rick walks back to Lori, and his arm circles her waist to draw her close. Lori feels victorious, and she wraps her arms around Rick. His career is everything to him, and Lori knew what to target to make him see reason or so she thinks.

"Is it supposed to put the fear of God in me? That is your big threat." Rick asks with a mocking tone of seduction, "Let me show you how it is done." The arm around Lori's waist becomes an iron shackle.

He slowly pushes her into the closest wall, and Rick's more intimate and rough touch slightly excites Lori. She always wanted a part of him to be dominant, but Lori misinterpreted Rick's boredom with passivity.

"Lori, sweetheart…" Rick drawls, and he tilts Lori's head so she can look into his cold eyes. "There is five litres of blood in your body. It will take several hours to bleed out if I lacerate your wrist." Rick releases Lori's waist and he grabs her wrist. He pulls a knife from the dinner table, which she prepared in hope to have a sensual night.

He presses the cold metal to Lori's neck, and it would take very little strength to break through her carotid. However, with his expertise, Rick only presses enough to make it feel like a cold caress

"I will watch you bleed until the life drains from your eyes. Each of your internal organ shutting down one after the other. It is going to be painful, and you will eventually wish to die because you will feel cold. You will hallucinate your worse fears, and it will be me haunting you." Rick runs the blunt edge of the blade along Lori's collarbone, and the pulsation of her galloping heart sends tremors through the cold metal.

"I will have that nice meal you cook tonight right by your decaying body." His sadistic nature enjoys the thought for a second, and that minute of silence frightens Lori.

"I will call the emergency in tears and tell them the very tragic story of my wife unexpected suicide. It will obviously be a gruesome suicide. Bathroom flooded, your body sinking deeper in a pool of your blood diluted in water. I will return home to clean the tub and any reminder of your existence, and I will continue with my life as if you were dust, which I cleaned from my shoes. Right, you do feel like dust on my shoes. An insignificant annoyance, which worsens my day." Rick twists the knife, and the sharp edge grazes Lori's stomach.

"Now, do you want to know why you're still breathing?" He pulls away the knife from Lori's stomach and returns it to the table. "Michonne care for your life, and she literally has me by my balls." He informs Lori "Guess who is not here to stand between you and me. So please Lori, threaten me again."

"I…" Lori stutters, but Rick ignores what she says when his phone rings.

* * *

 **Wednesday 8: 02 pm**

 **.**

 **.**

Rick knew that Michonne would drive him to an early grave. Stubborn and courageous, she wouldn't listen to him. Frustrated and furious, Rick kicks his car's door. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. He needs to think and not to react instinctively. He can't listen to what Tyrese attempts to say. Rick inhales again, and he lights a cigarette.

"She is living, boss. Do I stop her?" Tyrese finally regains Rick's attention.

He describes actions for actions Michonne subtle escape from her mother's place. If most of Rick's men hadn't learned her mannerism, Tyrese wouldn't have recognized her under the heavy black hood. However, the way she walks and stands easily betray Michonne as she makes a run for her mother's car.

Michonne and her mother share physical similarities, and she hopes to fool the person watching them with that. They have the same height and the same petite frame. Michonne borrowed one of her mother hoodie to help her disguise. However, she didn't assume how meticulously Rick picked her bodyguards. From Sasha to Tyrese, they have memorized details to identify Michonne.

"Follow her, and keep an eye on her. If anything happens, call me. Switch your GPS. I will be right behind you." Rick replies after consideration of his options.

Michonne's stubbornness and current anxiety is a bad cocktail. If she feels restricted or helpless, she might complicate the situation. Rick regrets not throwing Michonne's a bone to occupy her. He should have made her read files. Tyrese's location appears on the GPS of his car, and Rick decides to follow.

From her old apartment to Mike old office, Rick doesn't know what Michonne wants to find. He continues to burn through cigarettes as he passes through the streets. Anxiety rises his blood pressure and ties every muscle in knots. Every red light feels like a potential death sentence for Michonne. Rick might be slightly paranoid, but he knows how ruthless he would act to protect his organization.

When his phone rings again, Rick's heart abruptly halts. The bitter taste of bile coats his tongue and cigarette can't take the foul taste away. Rick glances at his phone, and he wishes for a god to worship.

"What now?" He shouts in frustration.

"Check,"

* * *

 **Wednesday 9: 30 PM**

 **.**

 **.**

Michonne has searched through every cupboard of the abandoned desk, and she can't find any clue on the money, which Mike embezzled. Her ex-husband was meticulous with his finances. He must have kept a tight book. If she finds it, Michonne believes that she might have an advantage.

Her old apartment was a waste of time, but she had faith she could find it in his audits company.

However, Michonne didn't expect to find the office in such state of disarray. Everything is on the floor or torn. Broken glasses adorn the parquet, and she carefully navigates between the vestiges of old luxury.

Michonne drags another cupboard, and it is empty. Aside from the dust, she has not found anything. She checks her watch, and Michonne only has a few minutes. She knows the promise that she made to Rick, but she can't sit and wait. She can't lose him too, and she can't stop thinking about the danger that she represents for Andre. Now, she has to add Carl's safety to the equation.

"Where did you hide them, Mike." She asks in frustration while looking at the floor in hope that he can hear her from hell, "You had to make it hard for me." She expresses her bitter resentment.

Conceivably, finding the money, which he has embezzled, might not help her issue, but Michonne needs advantages. She understands the game around her, and she knows how to bargain and appeals to greed. The same way that she used Rick's attraction for her during the early beginning of their arrangement, Michonne needs to have a bargaining chip.

"Where Michonne…think. Where could he hide them? Where could he…" She has her epiphany when she focuses her thoughts on Mike's true nature and not the characteristic that she attributed to him, "fucking coward," Michonne starts to run toward the opposite office.

She hardly manoeuvres between the chairs thrown on the floor and the broken glass. Michonne miraculously doesn't twist an ankle while running in her heels, but she collides with an unexpected obstacle.

"Slowdown, sweetheart." Hands hold her in place while she raises her head to face the person who has spoken.

"Who are you?" Michonne asks while she swats his hands away from her arms.

She knows her question is stupid, and the visceral reaction of her body to this man should stand as an answer. Never a stranger has inspired her such feeling of repulsion. She takes a step back, and her calves hit a chair laying on the parquet of Mike's office.

"Your worst nightmare…" His obnoxious laugh echoes on the wall, and he looks at Michonne as if he expects her to appreciate the joke. "Just kidding, untwist your thong, Michonne" He grazes the corner of Michonne's lips with his knuckles.

"Who are you?" Michonne slaps his hand away, and she shivers under his leering gaze.

The last time a man looked at her with this consuming intensity, she received a dying man in a trunk instead of flowers. Although, her minds halt on a thought. This man already sent her a dead body. Michonne's senses are in alert, and she subtly searches for an exit.

"My charming present didn't make you curious. I wasn't worth your coveted attention. Now, that is an asshole move after all the efforts, which I put into wrapping it. The hours spent packing it and the note. Don't tell me that you're an ungrateful bi... Lady…You're quite a looker. You're a proper Southern Lady." Negan corrects himself mid-sentence, and he intensely stares at Michonne.

"You're the sick fucker who sent Mike's body in a box." Michonne comes to term with what her entire body understood at a simple glance.

Panic speeds her ability to think. She needs to get out, and she needs to do it fast. There is a taste of tragedy in every breath, which she takes. The streets lights dance on Negan's manic grin. The rhythm of Michonne's heart is a death march.

"Negan, sweetheart." He reaches for her hand to kiss it.

Michonne uses his fascination for the softness of her skin as an opportunity. She lifts her leg, and she attempts to hit his manhood with her knee. Negan catches Michonne's knee, and he pushes it down. The hand around her hand turns into a shackle, and he pulls Michonne into him. He presses her back into the wincing dusty door of Mike's office.

Michonne's galloping heart covers every sound around her, but she hears the door wince under their combined weight. She can't look up because Negan hovers over her. His muddy eyes on her body make Michonne's skin crawl. His scent is overwhelming, and it makes her nauseous.

"You like rough foreplay..." Negan teases, and he runs his nose along the side of her face, "Bad girl." He whispers into Michonne's ear, and he sucks her earlobe.

His tongue runs around the curve of Michonne's neck.

Michonne attempts to shove him away, and he presses more of his weight on her. The tears start to collect in the corner of Michonne's eyes, and she struggles to breathe. His touch completely disgusts her. She desperately tries to shove him.

"And she is feisty. Can't wait to have you," He grunts in her ear, and Michonne's desperation increases. "You need to relax and learn how to take a joke. No need to shit your pant, I'm a gentleman. I will take you out, first." Negan says, and he moves away from Michonne.

There is enough space between the door and Negan. In her state of alert, Michonne only wants to escape this man. She quiets her thoughts, and she wills her leg to move. Michonne attempts to run, but Negan's arm closes on her waist.

"Ah not so fast. You have become a little obsession for me." He whispers while his hand moves from Michonne waist to her neck. "Meeting you is a wet dream for me and Lucille."


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for the review**

 **I don't own the walking dead,**

 **Please, review**

* * *

 **Chapter XIII: Wrecking Wednesday and Tortuous Thursday (part II)**

* * *

 **Wednesday 8: 02 pm**

 **...**

 **...**

When his phone rings again, Rick's heart abruptly halts. The bitter taste of bile coats his tongue, and the cigarette fails to take the foul taste away. Rick glances at his phone, and he wishes for a god to worship. He wipes the cold pearls of sweat, which moisten his palms, on his jeans. After a long stare at his phone, he has no choice but to pick the call.

"What now?" He shouts with boiling frustration, and each take of the cigarette's smoke burns his lungs.

Rick opens his car's window, and he throws the cigarette stub. He draws a deep breath to soothe his irritated lungs. The sight of the caller Id strengthens the feeling of anguish, which nibbles at the borders of Rick's heart. Exhausted, he closes his eyes, and he tries to castigate his emotions.

…

…

…

"Check," The interlocutor on the other side quickly whispers.

Eyes turn in his direction, and he maintains an impassive expression.

"The wife." He loudly shouts to his fellow bikers while he walks away from their little group.

"Since the boss is taking his sweet time with this bitch, I will go tell the wife to chill," he adds to quiet the suspicions, and he strategically informs Rick of the situation.

Rick's interlocutor glances at the building of Mike's office, and he throws his cigarette to the ground. Rick's princess has to complicate everyone's life. The thought that he might have to be the one to lead a rescue mission stresses him.

Now, he has to endanger his cover. The gazes of the other saviors are on him. He walks further away, and everyone is too distracted with his or her speculation of the gruesome horrors, which Negan inflicts on Michonne, to care for his movement.

…

…

…

Rick stares at the road ahead of him, and his vision narrows. He shoves his thumbs in his eyelids, and he stops the tears for falling. Deep breaths fail to expend his lungs. The open windows do not help to make Rick feel better, and the fresh air does not stop his nausea. The thoughts of Michonne ruin his efforts to conceal his emotions. Rick slams his hand on the steering wheel.

He pictures Negan's hands on Michonne, and he heard what everyone says about the other mobster. Panic is a feeling, which Rick no longer knows how to endure. His fingers twitch around the wheel, and Rick's focus on the road slowly evaporates. Every thought focuses on Michonne. He can't think fast when he needs it the most.

"What does he want with her?" Rick asks with a voice losing its confident tone, and he might as well vomit his guts.

He feels like the first day when for the first time, he had to comply with an order to kill. Rick is no longer a rookie, but tonight, he feels as scared as one. The distraction only worsens the situation. He drowns under layers of fear, and his thoughts remain frozen.

Rick is on the verge of a panic attack. His fingers cling to the steering wheel, and he endlessly increases the speed of his car. Sadistic men like Negan adore performing for an imaginary audience, and Rick is an hour away from Mike's office. Never such a gruesome thought would have cross Rick's mind, but in desperate times, he remembers to compromise.

Rick quiets his anxiety with cold reason. Negan will toy with Michonne, and the time, which Negan wastes on mental games, might be sufficient to help Rick prevent Michonne's death. Rick draws another breath, and he forcefully silences any thoughts of Michonne.

Rick distances his mind from any amorous feelings, and his predatory nature resurfaces. The calculating moves strengthen the cruelty of his mind. Rick refuses to think as an anxious boyfriend, and he doesn't possess the luxury to do it. Michonne took that option away from him. Rick understands it, and he decides to work with his basic instincts.

"He wants a shot at you by trapping your little queen." The words come out as whispers promptly hushed, "he has a theory that Michonne convinced Mike to steal the book for you." Rick's interlocutor finishes.

Rick attempts to clear his mind, and his thoughts are quieter than before he understood Negan's intentions. With slight frantic moves, he searches for a cigarette at the bottom of his pockets. Rick doesn't hold the grip on his mind that he wishes to have. Random thoughts of Michonne slip through the barrier, which Rick built around his emotions.

Rick drags as much smoke as he can with a deep breath. With every thought, he increases the speed of his car. Negan wants Shane Walsh, and Rick will act accordingly to that knowledge. Michonne will be collateral damage to Negan, and Rick decides to look at the situation with similar coldness.

His grip on the steering wheel freezes, and his body revolts against his thoughts. Nausea returns with vengeance. Rick can't think of Michonne has collateral damage. Rick's vision blurs again, and the tears fall like a curtain on his sight. He curses at his weakness, and he attempts to resonate. What matters is a breathing Michonne, and what Rick does to keep her alive might forever scar his mind. How Rick feels is insignificant.

Rick has done many horrible things in his mobster life, but until now, he never questioned the effect on his conscience. Rick drags enough smoke from his cigarette to fill his lungs. The nicotine feeds on his stress to fuel his reasonable thoughts. Rick sighs, and he wipes the tears, which manage to bypass his effort to keep them from falling.

"Get to her before anyone does," Rick says with a distant tone, and he reluctantly gives the order.

His cigarette stub burns his fingers, and the words are corrosive on his tongue. The tears fall with his consent and mix with the cold sweat, which drenches his face.

…

….

….

"You want me to break rank and protect her?" He asks with slight anxiety, but he attempts to conceal it. "Look, I won't lie to you."

Rick's mole looks around him, and he counts the men, who Negan brought with him. Seven extra men with him included, and the goal of their visit to Michonne is to intimidate more than it is to cause real harm. However, if he has to get Michonne out of this mess alone, the situation will quickly change.

He pulls out his gun, and he checks for the number of bullets. Stressed, he passes his hand in his long strands, and he searches his pocket for a cigarette.

Why did Rick's princess have to complicate everyone's life? Negan had been watching her apartment for days, and she had to show up there today. Frustrated, he throws his cigarette. Nothing can soothe his nerves when he is about to attempt a suicide mission

…

…

…

Rick takes another deep breath and finishes his cigarette. The words are heavy on his tongue, and he struggles to bury his feelings. Frustrated, he slams his hands against the wheel. As Rick boosts the speed of his car, the endless road remains the impediment between Michonne and him.

For a second, he needs to park the car. Rick swerves out of the road. He unlocks the door of his car, and he needs to take a breath. He fails to exhale at every attempt. He wipes the tears, which are the sole expression of his emotions. Rick delays to give the order, and he can't lose his advantage on the saviors. Rick allows his most ruthless part to take over his mind.

"No, that would be pointless, and you will both end up dead." Rick attempts to maintain a calm demeanour, and he draws another deep breath.

"Negan is going to play his usual game…" He needs another deep breath to stop the bile from burning his throat.

" He is eventually going to torture her to teach me somethang," The cold sweat drenches Rick's back as a strong visual thought of that potential scene invades Rick's mind.

"What I'm saying is if anyone is going to hurt her, it needs to be you. If it isn't you, I swear that I will kill you," Rick calmly says, and he doesn't require an answer.

"You won't be too hard on her, and you will keep her alive until I can make it. Take your time while you do it. Get to her before anyone does. Make it credible, and remember what I will do to you if she dies." Rick clarifies his order, and he hopes that he doesn't reach the point where one of his double agent in the saviors has to shoot Michonne.

With every word, he wonders how he became this man. How does his logic call to a gruesome act to protect Michonne from a barbaric death? His fury and frustration purge his mind of any grounding feelings.

Rick sighs, and he completely detaches his mind of the situation. Ruthless, he has no other way to get Michonne out of Negan's claws. Never before today, had he hated so much to be a mobster. Rick feels cornered, and he hates every second of it.

"If push comes to shove, you leave her for dead. Break an arm or break a leg, I don't care what you have to do as long as she doesn't die. If the execution order falls on some else than you, and then you break your rank. You shoot any threat." Rick quietly orders, and the words are beyond the control of his mind.

Once the call ends, Rick crouches by the trunk of his car. He can't breathe, and he can't live with who he is. Rick doesn't want to think about the guilt, which will invade him at his first glance at Michonne. He attempts to take a deep breath, but he fails and empties his stomach.

Rick's determination to save Michonne forces his feet to move. He returns inside his car, and he wipes his mouth. The tears dry as he comes to accept the order, which he has given to his man. Rick distances his actions from his feelings and affection for Michonne.

With numb nerves, Rick drives as fast as he can to Mike's office. Tonight, he feels like a rookie. He feels vulnerable, and he drowns in his emotions.

* * *

 **Wednesday 9: 30 pm**

 **..**

 **..**

There is enough space between the door and Negan. In her state of alert, Michonne only wants to escape this man. She quiets her thoughts, and she wills her leg to move. Michonne attempts to run, but Negan's arm closes on her waist.

"Ah not so fast. You have become a little obsession for me." He whispers while his hand moves from Michonne's waist to her neck. "Meeting you is a wet dream for me and Lucille." Negan laughs as he tightens his grip on Michonne's waist.

His fingers close around her throat, and Michonne feels the oppressive weight of them on her windpipe. The air barely crosses her throat and the tears pool into Michonne's eyes. She attempts to pry his hand away from her neck. With each passing second, breathing becomes harder.

Michonne's lungs burn and she gasps for any molecule of air. Negan laughs at her struggle to breathe, and he increases the amount of pressure on Michonne's throat. Michonne attempts to claw at Negan's face, and he easily dodges her desperate attack.

"Painful, right?" He throws the words after a sadistic laugh, and he lifts his arms to keep Michonne on her toes.

The tears leak from the corner of Michonne's eyes. Her skin starts to bruise under Negan's fingers. The plea is on the tip of her tongue, but Michonne can't push them out. She grabs his arms, and she strives to pull them away. Although, her effort goes to waste, and every breath fills like sting piercing her lungs.

Negan continues to crush Michonne's trachea, and her vocal cords tangle around each other. A few seconds, she will lose her consciousness. Michonne feels relieved at the thought to escape the pain.

Michonne's eyes flutter closes, and Negan slams the back of his hand in her face. The impact of his bone against her nose forces a cry of agony out Michonne's exhausted lungs, and she regains her awareness. Her lips start to bleed after she desperately bites them to sustain the pain.

Negan loosens his grip on Michonne's neck, and she slides against the wall. Michonne eagerly takes a breath, and her crushed windpipe contracts as the air infiltrate her throat. Michonne endlessly coughs. When Negan fully releases her, she sinks to the floor. After many laboured breaths, she regains a blurry awareness of her surroundings.

Disoriented, Michonne can't think of her next move. Now, she is the damsel in distress, who she fought so hard not to be. She rises on her knees, and she attempts to think fast. She can't fight him, and she can't antagonize him. Michonne attempts to strategize. She rises and dusts her clothes on which the filth of Mike's office clings.

"What do you want?" She quietly asks, and her tone is as submissive as she can make it be.

Negan leers at Michonne, and his eyes attempt to engrave her silhouette to his memory. The room in a hot Georgia's summer feels like the arctic pole to Michonne. She sees his desire for her, and it is an easy way out. Michonne already made a crazy arrangement once, but the thought of Negan's hand on her twists her stomach and propels the bile in her throat.

Michonne won't fool herself with false bravado, and she won't delude herself with the belief that she would accept to lay down with a man, who she finds completely repulsive. With Rick, she had her underlying desire fueling her boldness. Now, Negan's look only helps worsen her nausea. Michonne crosses her arm around her stomach in an attempt to shield her body from Negan's leering gaze.

"What do you want? I don't think that you want to kill me or you will have done it as soon as you walked in the room." Michonne reformulates her question, and she has many difficulties to maintain her submissive demeanour. "Or is it that you want to fuck me?" The words taste acidic and have a corrosive effect on her tongue.

She wants to take the words back when his gaze is a direct affirmative answer. Michonne won't be able to go through with her plan. She takes another step back, but it feels pointless when Negan has already cornered her. She has no space to run, and he doesn't leave her a margin of error.

Michonne deeply breathes, and she focuses her mind. A secluded office and no real exit, she has no way out of this place. She needs time until Rick intervenes. The unwavering hope that Rick will save her keeps Michonne focused, and her panic disappears.

"Seven days, I have counted five so far," Michonne probes Negan for an answer.

He stares at her with maniacal interests, and Negan wants to rile Michonne up. She easily can tell his intentions, and so she works on keeping her nerves under tight control. Michonne takes two steps back, and she returns into Mike's office. She has no intent to be prey to a predator in a twisted game. She massages her irritated neck, and she glances at her watch. She aims for Mike's desk, and she wants to put a barrier between Negan and her.

"Waiting for your lover boy, sweet peach?" Negan asks when Michonne slowly escapes the oppressive fear, which he wants to use to drown her.

Although the tone is jovial, Michonne picks the serious undertone of his sentence. This little meeting is not about her, and Negan wants to draw Rick out. She inquisitively raises an eyebrow, and Michonne wants to pry the pieces of information out of Negan's mind.

"My husband is dead. I don't have to remind you of your disturbing gift," She replies with quiet fury, and she waits for his reply.

Michonne walks further away from Negan, and her eyes peruse Mike's office for any mean of defence. Her desire to stab Negan increasing with each painful breath, which she takes. Michonne massages her neck, and the pain slightly reduces.

"Cute… she knows how to play dumb" Negan follows Michonne inside the office, "or are you loyal? What was the plan? Your foolish husband steals from me, and you give the books to your lover boy," he asks as he glances at Michonne.

"Your pussy must be worth the risk," Negan winks at a disgusted Michonne, "own it sweet peach, you got a magic candy box." He says with slight amusement.

"It surely drives all the men, who tasted it, insane." He continues, and Michonne's need to escape increase every time that Negan's leering gaze stays too long on her.

"Do you know your lover boy came after my men? I see the appeal, sweet peach," He drawls, and Michonne's desperately searches for a weapon to use.

She has heard enough, and each of Negan's word amplifies her disgust. Michonne takes deep breaths to suppress the nauseous feeling. She continues to step back, and her fear leads her steps.

Negan does what Michonne previously did. He takes the details of the room, and there is nothing, which Michonne could use as an efficient weapon against him.

"Shane Walsh, that is the name right," Negan asks, and he closes the distance between Michonne and him.

"Shane Walsh?" Michonne tastes the name on her tongue, and she feigns a vague confusion. "I'm not acquainted with the name," she intends her to lie to be blatant.

As long as she stirs the attention away from Rick, Michonne doesn't care to throw Shane under the bus. She glances at Negan, and he reacts accordingly to her expectations. His irritable laugh fills Michonne's ears, and Negan's knuckles dance along Michonne's jaws. She refrains from slapping his hand away, and she subtly moves her face away from Negan's fingertips.

" Pretty and loyal…Not so loyal to your husband," Negan points out what he believes to be the truth, " Now, let see how long you keep this loyalty for your lover boy." He finishes

"Can I beat it out of you?" Negan asks with a malicious glee.

With his height, he towers over her. Michonne slowly attempts to backtrack, but he grabs her arm. His free hand gets a hold of Michonne's nape, and he grabs a fist full of Michonne's locks. Negan yanks Michonne's head backwards, and she cries in pain. Her scalp burns, and she has no choice but to adjust her position. Negan loosens his grip, and Michonne releases a sigh of relief.

"I don't know Shane Walsh," Michonne says with a hoarse voice.

"Maybe it should be fucked out of you," He grabs her chin in a vicious grip, and he pulls her face toward him, " I will like fucking it out of you," His lips viciously attacks Michonne's one.

Michonne loses her countenance, and she bites Negan tongue. She pulls with all her strength on it, and Negan slaps her across the face. Michonne takes a step back. She spits Negan blood, and she wipes her mouth.

"Feisty bitch, it is always funnier with you," Negan says, and he spits the blood coming from the tongue, which Michonne intended to cut.

He reaches for Michonne, and she attempts to escape his grip again. He slams her body against the closest wall, and Michonne flank absorbs the impact. She sinks on the floor, and Michonne attempts to crawl out of the room. Negan grabs her locks, and he yanks her up. Negan starts to drag Michonne out of Mike's office, and she knows that it is futile to resist.

"I don't know Shane Walsh," Michonne repeats with a desperate cry.

"Then no one will come looking for you, sweet peach. You will be all mine," Negan challenges Michonne's bravado, and a wide grin spreads on Negan's lips.

…..

Wednesday 10: 08 pm

Rick slides in Tyrese's car, and he throws his tenth cigarette in an hour. He wipes his hands on his pants, and his calm demeanour is a cracking façade. His thoughts are a succession of horrid pictures. An hour later, he refuses to think about the horrors, which Michonne has endured.

Rick wipes his hands on his pants one more time, and he takes the cigarette, which Tyrese extends toward him. Rick lights it, and the nicotine soothes his anxious mind.

"Thirty men," Tyrese answers Rick's silent inquiry.

"I see seven," Rick points ahead of him.

Tyrese cocks an eyebrow, and he wonders since when Rick has turned in a naïve mobster. Rick drags as much smoke as he can breathe. He needs to clear his mind, and he hasn't had a rational thought in the last hours.

"I would have handled it if it was seven. We can't get her out of place without back up. We can't be sure that she won't be collateral damage if we start a confrontation," Tyrese points out the obvious, and Rick slams his fist into the board.

"There is no time for that mess. When he comes out with her. You shoot anything between me and her." Rick stares ahead of him in the poorly lit parking where Negan's men stand.

* * *

 **Wednesday 10: 20 pm**

 **..**

 **...**

Her lies are obvious, and Negan has every intention to meet Shane Walsh. He believes that any sane man would come running to play knight in a shining armour for a beautiful woman like Michonne. After a glance at her, she has him under a similar spell. He might as well speed the process.

He drags Michonne out of the building and toward his car. She attempts to resist when Negan's intention becomes clear. She won't allow him to use her as a trap for Rick. Michonne halts and she bites Negan's hand holding her arm.

She bites until she draws blood. The copper and iron tastes flood Michonne's palates, and Negan yelps in pain. As a reflex, Negan releases his grip on Michonne, and she attempts to take advantage of the situation. Her car is a park not too far from the building exit.

Michonne spits Negan's blood, and she quickly removes her heels. She shoves one in his legs with as much strength as she can. When Negan attempts to grab her, Michonne pushes the heel of her second shoe in Negan's hand. He cries in pain, and Michonne starts to run.

She hears Negan's excited laugh echoes in the air. Michonne refuses to look behind her to see if he is following her. Michonne only has a single thought, and she doesn't care for the asphalt, which scratches her bare feet and pulls the skin away. She runs while the air crushes her lungs.

Her lungs are burning, and the adrenaline continues to push her forward. She is a turn away from her freedom, and Michonne continues to run. Her car is in front of her, but her hope to escape dies when she glances at the seven men leaning on her car. The bikers' jacket and the boots confirm her suspicions.

Michonne's desperation weakens her body, and she glances back with fear. She stops running, and the seven saviors look at her. One of the seven men quickly reacts, and he lunges at Michonne. She sees a blonde mane and a half burn face. Michonne draws a deep breath, and she resigned to her fate. He tackles her to the ground.

"Don't act up, princess." He quickly whispers, and Michonne doesn't have the time to react to his statement.

His elbow presses her throat, but he isn't trying to suffocate her. Michonne doesn't notice the difference, and she fights him with the desperation of a man, which hell chases. She manages to shove him off her, and she rises to face the other man. A tall languid man grabs her by the waist, and he lifts her from the ground.

"Dwight is letting a bitch overpower him," his laugh resonate in Michonne's hear, and she tries to elbow him. "Stop fighting, bitch." He elbows Michonne's bruised ribs, and she cries in pain.

"Simon, the boss wants her," Dwight attempts to keep Michonne from harm.

" even a little bruised, she will continue to be a beauty," He says as he throws Michonne's to the parking ground, and he walks toward her as she attempts to rise on her feet, " I have a debt to settle with the bitch's boyfriend," He adds as he eagerly rise his foot to kick Michonne.

Michonne closes her eyes, and she prepares herself for the crushing impact, which never comes. Gunshots resonate in the silent and poorly lit parking. Blood splashes Michonne's face and she opens her eyes to face a falling Simon. Michonne's reflexes force her to roll on the side to avoid Simon's body.

Michonne glances at the wound between his brow bone, and her panic keeps her frozen on her spot. The chaos unfolds around her, and she watches the body fall. She hears the panicked shouts, and she fails to move until some grabs her hand. Her body's adrenaline rises, and Michonne fights with desperation.

She kicks and pushes the hand away for her.

"Michonne," Hearing her name doesn't stop her panicked reaction, and she continues to fight his grip.

"No…no," Michonne cries and shouts.

Although, all her aggressors lay on the floor. Some are bleeding, and the other dead. Michonne continues to panic, and she feels strong arm finally close around her waist. The touch is familiar, but Michonne doesn't care. She bites his arm, and she strives to escape.

"Michonne," the southern drawl is familiar, but panic has a visceral grip on Michonne's mind.

She attempts to escape Rick grip as he drags her to his car. Rick looks around, and he knows the remaining saviours, who Tyrese mentioned must be heading toward the parking.

"You need to fucking get a grip, Princess," Rick says with slight annoyance breaking through his emotional exhaustion.

"Oh my god," Michonne sobs

She can't stop her elbow from kicking toward Rick's stomach, but she belatedly recognizes the arm around her. The fight in her die and she allows him to carry her to the car.

Carefully, Rick places her in the backseat. He rushes to the driver seat, and he grabs his police siren.

"Hide until I tell you to stop," Rick quietly says, and the droning of motorcycles covers his voice.

Rick draws another deep breath. He drives a few miles away from the parking, and he does a complete turn to head toward the parking. Rick watches as Tyrese's car passes him. He grabs his police intercom, and Rick never felt so relieved to remove his mobster persona.

"Central, this detective Grimes, we have a code 10-71 reported at the following address. 1170 Peachtree St NE number 1200." Rick announces, and his mind basks in the remaining effect of the adrenalin. "The assailants look like bikers, and I encountered them while investigating Mike's Anthony office. They opened the fire, and I will need back up." He purposely adds.

"Central to detective Grimes, we will be sending back up your way until then stand by," the sounds of the intercom fill the car.

Rick does not dare to look at Michonne, and he wants to keep his detachment to the situation. He knows how a glance at her might short circuit his objective thoughts. If he only saws seven men, and Tyrese told him there were thirty. Negan must have cover ground and step a trap for him.

* * *

 **Wednesday 11: 35 pm.**

 **..**

…

Rick lights a cigarette, and his anger increases. Every chance to handle Michonne's trouble quietly has disappeared. He blows the smoke, and he waits half an hour until he hears the police siren.

He picks his phone from his pocket, and he searches through his contact for Tyrese's phone number. He waits until Tyrese picks the call.

"Do you have the children?" Rick asks without wasting a second.

"I am waiting while they pack their stuff," Tyrese replies while he makes himself comfortable in the living room of Michonne's mother.

"Can you pass me, Carl?" Rick asks, and he waits for Tyrese to pass the phone to his son.

"Dad?" Carl says and he sounds anxious, "your partner is at Michonne's mom."

He suspiciously eyes Tyrese, and Tyrese offers a smile. Carl attempts to pass a message to his father, and he has told Andre to hide under the bed. He knows who his dad partner is, and this man, who claims to be Rick's partner, is not Shane. Carl has read enough comic and watch enough movie to know not to trust everyone who claims to be a police officer. In addition, Rick has been very cautious in teaching him not to trust a stranger.

Therefore, Carl made sure to hide Andre, and he intends to go pick the little boy when he pretends to go pack their bag. They will escape by the window, and Carl has thought everything through. He promised that he would protect Michonne and Andre.

"That is Tyrese, and he is not going to harm you or Andre," Rick knowingly says, and he is glad that his son inherited his paranoia, "I'm so proud of you, Carl." He genuinely says.

"Okay…dad," Carl says, and he didn't expect his father's encouraging words.

"Now, I need you to listen. Somethang came up, and I promised to make sure that Michonne, Andre, and you are safe." Rick doesn't know how to follow his statement.

There are many things to handle at once. He puts his siren on, and he heads back to the parking of Mike's office. Now, he hears the droning of motorcycles head away from it.

The police siren sounds become louder, and he has to think fast. He has to rethink every detail and step to make. Michonne's little escapade destroyed any chance for a quiet resolution to her conflict with the saviours.

"I will need your help with that," He continues, and he waits for Carl to answer. "Look, Tyrese is going to take Andre and you to a safe place,"

There is a second of silence, and he hopes that he is not frightening his son. Rick drags what remains of his cigarette. He ultimately glances at the backseat, and Michonne quietly lays on him. She listens to his conversation with Carl.

"Michonne is not here," Carl says with slight worry, and he glances back at Tyrese.

"I know son, and don't worry Michonne is safe. Now, I need to make sure that Andre and you are safe too." Rick remains calm, but his mind is frantic.

He assumes that they might have been Michonne's mom house. Michonne stares at Rick while he talks to his son, and he attempts to convince Carl that she is safe.

"I will talk to him," she breathes the words between her silent sobs.

Rick's look isn't one, which she wants to understand. There are too many layers of emotions distorting the shade of his irises. Rick passes her the phone with a certain reluctance.

"Hi, sweetheart," Michonne forces herself to sound fine, "I heard that my little disappearance worried you. I'm sorry, Carl. I didn't mean to, but I wanted to help your dad solve something." Michonne's words are for Carl and Rick's benefit.

Although, Carl is the only one willing to hear. Rick steps out of the car after parking.

"Okay, I'm glad that you're fine." Carl answers, "Andre is fine too," he feels the need to add.

"What about you, are you fine?" Michonne asks with genuine needs to know.

"Now, I'm better." Carl answers.

"Good and I need you to remain that way. Listen, sweetheart, you don't have to do anything. Rick can very well protect Andre, you, and I. If Tyrese scares you, I will come to pick Andre and you."

"I'm not afraid," Carl bravely says, and he looks at Tyrese with a brave expression. "I will help Andre pack,"

"Thank you for protecting Andre. I will pass the phone back to Rick." Michonne says, and Rick returns inside the car.

"Listen, Carl, Tyrese will take you to grandpa's home, and Michonne will join you tomorrow. You can call me every minute, and you just have to ask Tyrese." Rick assures his son, and he hates being in this situation.

He didn't want Carl or Andre in the middle of potential chaos. Now, Rick is acting on instinct. He doesn't have any move ahead of Negan.

"Okay," Carl hesitantly says, "Dad, I love you." He finishes with a sigh of relief.

"I love you too, Carl." Rick feels part of the heaviness on his shoulder disappears.

* * *

 **Thursday 12: 09 pm.**

…

 **..**

Rick looks at Michonne, and his guilt overwhelms him. He can't take back his order, and he assumes that parts of her bruise are the result of what he asked Dwight to do.

"I'm sorry," Michonne says, and she waits for Rick to say something.

The tension between them makes everything harder to process. The sounds of police siren drown her apology.

"Listen, Michonne." Rick sounds so distant to Michonne, and he adverts his look every time that she attempts to create eye contact with him. "You only says what I tell you to say," he says with firmness, and Michonne hears the bitter accusation, "I need you to follow my lead," He waits for her answer, and Michonne's constricted tone stops her from speaking.

She eagerly nods, and she wants to demolish the walls, which she slowly watches Rick built.

"I'm sorry, baby," Michonne reaches for Rick, and he dodges her hand.

"Yeah," he dispassionately replies, and he proceeds to tell her the story that she has to feed the other police officer.

Quickly many police officers surround them, and Michonne watches Rick walk away from her.

He heads toward Simon's body, and he simply wants to wake him up to kill him again. The thought of his hands on Michonne infuriates him. Although, Rick manages to contain himself. He has a story to sell, and he needs a new plan.

Rick's phone starts to ring, and he moves away from the crime scene. He quickly glances at Michonne, and the paramedics are cleaning her wounds. At each sight of Michonne, Rick questions his life's decision.

He hardly can live with how he coldly manages to let his mobster personality dictate the way to handle the events. Rick is angry with himself, and he is angry with Michonne.

For once, he wants to leave the mobster world behind him. He doesn't want to order anyone to harm the woman, which he loves, to save her life. Rick doesn't want to pass another call where he has to tell Carl to protect Andre, and he wants to protect his sons.

The thoughts became a realization, and Rick understands that his different lives have become one. Rick needs to choose before his mobster life consumes everything else.

Rick picks the call, and Sasha's voice fills his ears.

….

 **Thursday 12: 25 am**

 **..**

…

Sasha watches Daryl cleans his hand, and he steps out to smoke. She stares at a battered Merle and her knuckles throbs after her handy work on her boyfriend's brother.

"Sasha," Rick's voice carries his dissatisfaction with the day.

"Oh Princess has gone out of her way to torture you," Sasha teases, and she has come to attach Rick's poor mood to his frustration with Michonne.

In parts with any other day, Sasha is right, and Rick sighs on the other side of the phone.

"You have no idea. She managed to start a mob war," Rick replies, and Sasha takes in his annoyance.

War is the last thing, which Rick wants. A war means visibility on his organization, and Rick can't afford to have eyes on him. Now after gathering more information from Merle, Sasha knows of the danger lurking around them.

"So we are going to go after the saviors. You shouldn't have fallen in love with her. I mean you can't think straight, and I understand you." Sasha says without an ounce of malice.

After spending so many days with Michonne, Sasha has a quiet friendship with her. She knows how it is easy for Rick to want to protect Andre and Michonne. Sasha adores Michonne.

"Negan made it a personal thang, and I Don't think straight when Princess is in the middle," Rick admits without any hesitation.

Rick's need to avenge any affront made against Michonne is his only motive for starting a war that he might lose. He searches his pocket for a cigarette, and he comes empty-handed.

"Well, Merle had a lot to say. Your day is about to get shittier," Sasha sighs, and she glances at a wounded Merle tied against a chair. She walks up to him, and she pulls out one of the arrows, which Daryl shot in his thighs, "There is someone coming after everyone. Those saviors book, he had a girl named, Andrea, steal them," she explains and pulls on another arrow.

Merle whimpers and Sasha offers a quiet smile. She returns to her seat, and she looks at the door waiting for Daryl to return.

"Fuck…" Rick has no appropriate words to express his exasperation.

Sasha confirms his suspicions, but it only complicates his equations.

"Do you ever think that time has come to retire?" Rick absentmindedly asks Sasha.

"Aren't you too young to die?" Sasha says without an ounce of humour, and they all know how you exit their world, "You can't love anyone from the grave," She pursues with a disillusioned tone.

"I have a family," Rick says with a bitter laugh.

Until tonight, he never echoed the thought. He had a wife, and he had a son. However, he didn't have a family. Now, Rick is a father, and he really wants to be a husband to Michonne as soon as he can.

"A beautiful one and it makes you want to retire," Sasha sympathizes, "You make me want my family too. How unfortunate, dead or in jail isn't appealing, boss." She finishes, and Rick laughs.

"So who is that man coming for us and everyone else?" Rick returns to the former topic of conversation.

"The governor," Sasha says, and she can't believe someone will pick such a pompous code name.

"Anythang else?" Rick asks, and he expects Sasha to add more.

She is excel when it comes to interrogation, and Rick almost regrets asking her to oversee Daryl. Perhaps, Michonne wouldn't have successfully escaped if Sasha had watched over her.

"Well Merle was supposed to handle something for the governor tonight, and a certain Morales have been calling. I assume they might start searching for Merle. They are also after our book, and that means they are after you." Sasha replies, and she looks at Merle, "I can try to make him talk more, but he is out of it for now,"

"It doesn't matter what shit he might have to say. Execute him," Rick orders, and he has his mind made.

"Daryl…" Sasha hesitates, and she draws a deep breath, "that is Daryl's brother." She reminds Rick.

"And I didn't ask Daryl to do it, I asked you to kill him. Is he your brother?" Rick replies, and he remains unfazed.

"Is this all about retiring?" Sasha knowingly asks.

"If I have to die to retire, I will start to dig my grave." Rick confidently replies, and Sasha sighs.

"Well, let me tell Daryl that we have to kill his brother," Sasha reluctantly agrees, and she rises from her seat.

"He was ready to do it once for you, and I don't think he has changed his mind." Rick calmly replies.

"Anything else?" Sasha asks with growing suspicion, and she feels chaos brewing.

"Yeah…"

….

 **Thursday 1: 15 am**

 **...**

… **..**

Rick returns to the crime scene, and he asks for a cigarette. He has his mind made, and Sasha only pointed out the obvious. There is no quiet way to exit the mob world, but Rick never allows anything to stop him before tonight. He will dig his grave if he must.

Rick lights his cigarette, and he works to the ambulance, where a police officer interrogates Michonne.

"Are you okay, ma'am…?" Rick slides back into his officer friendly act, and he nods at the police officer.

"Thanks to you, detective Grimes," Michonne, says, and she continues to stick by the story, which Rick created.

"So to summarize you receive a call at 10 am from a man, who asked you to come to your late husband's office?" The police officer asks, and he waits for Michonne to answer.

As a former barrister, Michonne is versed in the counter-interrogation art. She draws a deep breath, and she knows the officer wants her to make an obvious mistake.

"I received the call at 11:30 pm, officer. They didn't say much, but I was told that I needed to pick a file from his offices to settle financial matters. I found it suspicious, and I ignored the request," Michonne poses, and she pretends to have a difficult time with her memories.

She looks at Rick, and he remains stoic. Michonne forces herself to stick to her story, and she continues after a deep breath. "I receive another call while I was to my mother's place. It was more insistent, and my husband as an accountant handled many people found. I thought it would be important." She hesitates between her words, and she knows how pacing makes the credibility of a story.

"I came here around 8 pm maybe 9 pm. I'm sorry I can't remember," Michonne's eyes glisten with tears, and she uses her trauma to fuel her performance.

"And I went to his office. I only find broken things, and I started to panic. I called Detective Grimes. First, I thought about detective Walsh, and he has been instant about… well, I called detective Grimes," She purposely adds new detail about Shane, and Rick remains quiet by the officer side.

"Detective Walsh?" Rick asks, and he hopes Michonne delivers the perfect performance.

"I don't think that it matters." She says with a slightly confused and fearful tone.

"Ma'am, we will judge if it is relevant," the officer forcefully says, and Rick turns in the charm of the kind police officers.

"Michonne, I can call Michonne, Ma'am," Rick asks, and Michonne timidly nods. "Michonne, you might miss details, which matters to our investigation. If you don't mind, we would like to hear about detective Walsh." Rick finishes with a slight tender squeeze on Michonne's hand.

"He has been insistent almost harassing. He has no way to access my husband book, and he wanted me to offer them voluntarily. He thinks that it might be relevant to the investigation. I have said no, and he didn't take it very well. Although, he hasn't done anything else after what he did in…" Michonne takes a deep breath and she stares at Rick with mistrust, "he is your partner," she finishes.

"If my presence bothers you, I will let my colleague handle it." Rick softly says, and he turns to the other police officer, "Rosita,"

"I'm sorry," Michonne says to Rosita, and she draws another deep breath, "I didn't know if detective Grimes will believe me. Detective Walsh has harassed me since the night I accused detective Grimes of killing my husband. I apologize to detective Grimes, but I didn't want to accuse his partner of sexual harassment in his presence," Michonne wipes her tears, and she proceeds to retail the events, which transpired in Andre's room.

With each word, she centres Shane in her story. Michonne manipulates Rosita, and as Rick expected, the police officer draws the anticipated conclusion. Rosita walks away from Michonne, and she gives Michonne's deposition to Rick.

" What mess Shane cause again?" Rick humours Rosita.

"We will need to involve internal affairs, and I will rather you speak to Captain Morgan." She answers, and Rick's worried expression magisterially hides his joy.

"Fuck, it is that bad?"

* * *

 **Thursday 2: 45 am**

…

 **..**

Michonne glances at Rick, and the silence fills the car. She doesn't know how to dissipate the tension between them. Since they left the parking, he hasn't said a word. His silence hurts more than her bruising ribs.

"I'm sorry," Michonne quietly speaks, and her voice disrupts the silence for a second.

Rick decides to keep his thoughts to himself, and he chooses to use his silences as a knife to twist in Michonne's wounds. He takes a turn, and he stares at the road.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she refuses to give up, "I get it, I swear. I have bruised ribs to prove it," Michonne attempts to lighten the mood with a poor attempt to a joke.

Her weak laugh fills the car, and Rick finally allows his emotional restraint to break. He swerves the car out of the road, and he parks it. His head sinks in his palm, and he remains quiet for a few minutes. Michonne slides her fingers in his hair, and Rick pulls it out.

"Don't…" He warns her, and for a second, Rick wants to keep his wall up.

"I'm sorry," Michonne insists, and she leaves her seat to climb over Rick's lap.

"Michonne," He says with utter frustration, and he refuses to look at her.

Michonne takes Rick's hands, and she places them on her hips. She frames Rick's face in her palm. She draws a deep soothing breath. Michonne rests her forehead against Rick's one. Her nose grazes his nose, and she inhales again. The thought that he could have lost sends shivers through Rick.

"I'm sorry," Michonne repeats, and her lips brushes Rick's one, "I'm sorry," she presses her lips to his.

Rick gives in to his needs, and he welcomes Michonne's tender kiss. She releases his face, and her hands disappear in his hair. She passionately kisses until every single neuron in Rick's mind focuses on how good she feels in his arms.

She kisses him until a soft moan leaves his lips. His hands leave her hips, and they settle on her waist. Rick returns the passion of Michonne's kiss. He pours his conflicted emotions into the tenderness of his caresses. His fingers possessively dig in her skin, and he is afraid not to hold Michonne's tight enough.

She tries to hold it to preserve the moment, but Michonne winces when Rick's hand caresses her ribs. Rick breaks their kiss, and Michonne attempts to stop him.

"You want to fuck with bruised ribs, Princess," Rick laughs, and his laugh quickly Loses it glee.

Ultimately, he looks at Michonne. He rests his forehead on hers. Rick stares in the warm brown of Michonne' eyes, and he finds his balance. For the first time in the day, Rick takes a painless breath. He feels his lung with the sweet perfume of the woman, which he loves.

"I fucking love you," He passionately says, and he draws another deep breath, "It might mean nothing to you, but it means everything to me, Princess." He says with a wave of quiet anger, but he has no strength to show the depth of his anger while the putrid fear still holds his mind, "You can't fucking die. You can't put me in situations when I have to tell people to hurt you because I don't want to lose you, you can't do that." Rick's voice breaks and Michonne wipes his tears, which needed to fall.

"I can't lose you," Rick says, and he holds her as tightly as her bruised ribs permit, "I want to live a very boring life with you, and I can't do that if you die. I swear Chonne if you pull up this shit again…" Rick can't finish his sentence because his mind refuses to relive today's torture with a hypothetical scenario. "I can't lose you, please…please… I can't lose you."

"I'm sorry," Michonne doesn't have the words to express the intensity of her emotions, and she leans to kiss him.

She starts to unbutton Rick's shirt, and he looks at her as if she is insane. He carefully halts her hand, and he lifts her chins to look in her eyes. The conversation is silent, and he is afraid to ask.

"What did he do to you?" Rick asks, and he draws his strength in the quiet storm brewing in Michonne's eyes.

"Nothing that you can't fix," she kisses him with bruising needs, and she wants Rick's taste to take away memories of Negan's lips pressed against hers, "I want to feel safe, and you make me feel safe." She confesses.

"Princess?" Rick asks while he wills his calmest tone, and he doesn't want to upset Michonne.

"He didn't rape me, but I guess he would have tried. I stab his knee with my heel, and I bit him until his blood filled my mouth. That bastard tried to kiss me, and I would have bitten that tongue until I cut it." Michonne finally allows her anger to surface, and she feels safe enough to express her emotions.

"I will kill him," Rick states with utter calm, and his words soothe Michonne's mind.

"I just want you to make this feeling go away, and I never want to feel like this again," she quietly says, and she kisses the crown of Rick's head.

"Do you want to have a boring life with me? I mean truly a boring life, and we will move to a small town. We will raise our boys and make more children," Rick asks, and Michonne focuses on his sincerity.

She kisses him with tenderness, and she smiles through the kiss.

"I would love that, but I would love anything as long as I get a forever with you." She says, and she leaves his lap.

Michonne eventually falls asleep, and Rick drives to the mansion. If he intends to start a war, he needs to plan accordingly. Rick looks into his rearview, and he spots a savior. On the seventh day, there must be war.

* * *

 **Thursday 7: 40 pm**

 **..**

… **..**

When Rick phone rings, he expects the call. Martinez fills the screen as caller id. Rick kisses Michonne's shoulder, and he carefully leaves the bed.

"Martinez?" Rick answers, and he starts to wear his clothes.

"Grimes, I'm cashing on that debt tonight." Martinez doesn't waste a second, and he has no choice.

He stares at Amy's house, and he has clear orders. If this goes as planned, he solves two issues. Amy Harrison naively took Rick's bait, and she called her sister in a panicked stated.

Apparently, naivety is a family trait. Andrea unwisely revealed to Philip that Rick knew that she wasn't dead, and the soft kiss, which Philip placed on her forehead, convinced her that he would handle the situation in a way that favoured her.

However, Philip Blake only has his best interest at heart. Rick Grimes has proven himself worth his attention. Andrea is a liability, and Philip only has one way to handle a liability. Martinez has clear orders, and Lori Grimes gave him a way to make it happen.

"What?" Rick pretends to be confused.

Although, he knew the consequences of Merle's death. He assumes Amy Harrison carried his message to the right ears.

"I texted you the address, and don't be late," Martinez says, and he hangs up before Rick can argue.

Rick prepares himself for the worst, and he doesn't know if Martinez might attempt to kill. However, he is going to gamble his life.

"Hey," Michonne groans as Rick's movements disturb her sleep, and she tries to wake up.

"Hey," Rick kisses Michonne's cheek, and she holds his shirt when he tries to walk away.

"Where are you going?" She murmurs, and she sounds anxious.

Michonne sits, and she forces her mind to focus on the moment. Rick frames Michonne's face, and he misses her.

"Listen, Princess" he softly says, and Michonne struggles to focus.

Rick never believed that he will blindly love anyone, but here, he stares into the eyes of a sleepy Michonne.

"Caiman 657930963709876," Rick starts to speak, and Michonne frown in confusion, "Belize 879045786701," He continues to speak, and Michonne covers his mouth with her hand when he starts to tell her numbers, which are locations.

"No." Michonne firmly says, and she no longer can sleep. "Where are you going?" She demands to know.

"I need you to keep everything in your head: every account and every location. If anything happens to me, they will make sure you are safe. Sasha, she will keep you safe because she is your friend, and everyone else will do so because you are the books," Rick ignores Michonne's question, and he retells her the number of accounts.

"Rick," she tries to stop him, and she doesn't want to think about losing him, "It might mean nothing to you, but it means everything to me. I love you, and you're my true love. I swear that if you die, I will kill you, Richard Grimes. I don't care how you do it or what you, I can't lose you," She loosely quotes him.

"I will keep that in mind, princess."

* * *

 **Thursday 9: 25 pm**

…

 **..**

Rick spots Martinez's car in front of Amy's house. He reads his message, and Martinez told him to knock. Rick draws a deep breath, and he decides to hold onto Michonne's words.

Rick walks up to the door, and he knocks. Martinez slightly drags the door open. He glances at Rick, and he suspiciously looks beyond Rick's shoulder.

"You came alone," Martinez asks as a formality, and he allows Rick into Amy's house.

Rick stares at the bright yellow walls, and blood taints them. He looks up to Martinez, and Rick knows it is time to pretend. The means matter little to Rick as long as he manages to live the business alive, and he intends to be ruthless.

"What is going on?" Rick says with palpable anxiety in his voice, and his eyes fall on Martinez bloody shirt.

"I hope you have a solid stomach," Martinez replies, and he places a butcher knife in Rick's hand.

"What the fuck?" Rick throws the knife on the ground, and he feigns panic.

"Well, that is the knife, which I used to kill Amy Harrison. Guess who has just put his print everywhere on it," he explains with slight amusement.

"What are you going on about?" Rick continues to hide behind his officer friendly facet.

Martinez drags Rick in the kitchen by his nape, and Amy butchered body lies on the floor. Rick pretends to feel nauseous, and he wonders how sick Martinez can be.

"So, we have a little story. A good police officer starts a downward spiral. First, he finds out that his wife fucks his partner on a regular basis. He becomes a wife beater, and he has that big murder case to solve. He becomes obsessed, and he thinks a dead woman is a culprit. He harasses the dead woman's sister until he loses it. The rest is a sordid murder, and who fits the bill, officer friendly Rick Grimes," Martinez says, and he releases Rick's neck.

"What…what … what …what," Rick repeats, and he is the perfect portrayal of a distressed man.

"Shut up Grimes," Martinez says, and he leans on the kitchen island, "no need to shit your pant. That was a possible version of the story, but there is more too it." He removes his gloves, and he looks for a cigarette, "I like you, Grimes," he says as if he is giving Rick a compliment, "and my boss thinks you could be useful. This is an incentive." Martinez points at Amy's drained body.

"What…what you want?" Rick asks, and he internally relaxes.

"I want nothing from you, but he might ask you to prove your worth," Martinez replies, and there is a knock at the door.

…

…

….

"So, do you have what it takes? She is a crying, pleading, and desperate woman. Can you do it? I heard that you were the officer friendly, Rick." Philip turns to Rick.

Rick looks terrified, and his skin has a horrid pallor to it. He takes a deep breath, and he looks back at Morales who stands by him. He hopes that he looks as distraught as he should be after his first kill.

"Now…" Philip encouragingly puts his hand on Rick's shoulder, "There is no need to be so stressed, Rick." He squeezes Rick's shoulder.

As in queue, Rick takes another deep breath, and he wipes the tears, which he manages to fake. After his last two days, Rick is exhausted and on edge. He simply wants to secure his exit from this world and protect Michonne.

"You see, Andrea isn't as innocent as she looks. Will you kill a criminal in your line of duty?" Philip starts a speech, which he believes to be poignant to a gullible good cop.

Rick Grimes is far from a good cop, but he never breaks out of character. Since Morales dragged him inside Amy's apartment, he has kept his officer friendly persona. Panicked when he should, and he could care less for what the narcissist calling himself the governor has to say.

"If I have to defend myself, I will consider doing it," Rick answers with a voice, which gives the illusion of false confidence.

"Think of it as a duty. Andrea, why don't you tell him everything that you did." Philip reaches for Andrea's arm, and he drags her to the centre of the room.

"Fuck you," Andrea hisses while she furiously tries to escape his hold.

"Forgive her manners, Rick. She has no mama to kiss with that mouth. Now, she doesn't have a sister too." Philip says and reminds the entire room of the dead body in the corner.

Morales laughs and Rick pretends to withhold his vomit. His breaths are more laboured with each passing minute, and Rick's external panic stands in contradiction to his internal boredom.

"Where was I? Oh yes, have you killed, Rick? In the line of duty or for the greater good." Philip returns to the topic, which concerns him.

"He is a goody two shoes. White as snow and He doesn't have a parking ticket." Morales answers for Rick

"So what brings you to us?" Philip turns toward Rick.

"Morales made a convincing speech. Look, I love this city, and it is rotting away with all the rising crime. It doesn't matter how good you're, and someone will try to fuck you over. My wife, well, Morales helped me, and so I'm inclined to help him," Rick retrieves his voice, and he masters the emotions to express with each word.

He looks the part of the good man disillusioned with life. Rick doesn't have to look far into his memory, and he had a similar moment. He was a good cop, and he had values. Now, he could care less about a noble cause.

"And you want to do something about it?" Philip attempts to manipulate Rick with a subtle question.

"Yeah…" Rick dispassionately answers, and he remembers that he has to act like his idealistic counterpart.

"If I can help fix it, I wouldn't hesitate. Just a few days ago, someone named Negan came after my partner for no reason. It has to end." Rick deliberately draws the focus on Shane with those details.

"But are you ready to do anything for it? You must love your small community. You must have children. Atlanta is rotting, and you're right." Philip insists, and Rick wonders how this speech could work on anyone with a functioning mind.

"Men like Negan can't be stopped by the police, but we can stop them." Philip continues.

"Look at her, pretty and innocent. Doesn't look like she can hurt a fly, but she left a man to die at the hand of her beloved boyfriend, Negan. Sweet innocent Andrea killed her entire FBI squad. She is not so innocent anymore. Killing her is doing your duty, Rick." Philip starts his brainwashing propaganda.

"I did it for you," Andre cries in despair, "I killed them because you wanted me to do it." She loses her previous confidence "Philip…Philip…Philip" Andrea starts to plead with the governor as he drags her down to her knees. "Please, Philip." She attempts to delay her execution.

"Shut up, bitch." Morales hits Andrea with his gun, and Philip restrains him before he can do it a second time.

"Morales, there is no need for violence." Philip says with false indignation, "Here, shushhh. There is no need to be so dramatic. You're scaring Rick, Andrea." Philip leans down, and he cleans the stream of tears on Andrea's face.

"Are you scared, Rick?" Philip asks Rick, but after a glance, he believes to have the answer that he wants, "Obviously, You're afraid. You haven't killed anyone before, but you have seen the dead bodies, which pile in the streets. You would allow it to continue to happen. You would let your partner be the next one. Are you going to take the easy way out and wait for the law to fail?" Philip repeats the speech, which convinced Andrea, "I don't like a coward, Rick." The last words are a threat, which Philip doesn't care to hide.

Morales aim at Rick's head, as a mean of coercion. If only they knew, he could care less for Andrea Harrison's fate. Rick no longer has any use for her, and she might eventually recognize him.

"Fuck…Fuck…Fuck" Rick pretends to crumble under the weight of anxiety "She…" He stops because he knows that Philip will love to add a line to his speech.

"She is the trash, which you need to rid the city of, and she is no better than a criminal killed in the line of duty. To serve and protect, Rick." Philip encourages, and he assumes that Rick believes his propaganda.

"To serve and protect. Her boyfriend got Shane to a hospital bed. What happens if he comes after Carl and you? Don't disappoint me, Rick. Kill this bitch." Morales add his two cents to the conversation.

"Philip, please. I did everything you wanted." Andrea pleads with an immovable Philip, and she attempts to appeal to his heart, "Philip…" She sobs "please."

"Rick, it is her or you." Philip starts to lose his patience.

He doesn't matter if Rick adheres with the ideology. As long as he can keep an eye on Mike's case, he will take what comes to him. Now, he has a greater need for Rick. Philip wants someone to spy on Shane. Why would Negan come after a detective? Perhaps, Shane could be the one controlling the Alexandrian.

"Please, don't listen to him…please…Please…please." Andrea crawls on her knee to Rick's feet, and she clings at his leg.

"Rick?" Philip questions his loyalty with a stern warning.

Rick ignores the recognition in Andrea's eyes. He looks into her eyes, and he drags his gun out of its holder. Andrea pleads with her breaking voice, and her tears fall in single drop on Rick's boots. He looks in her eyes, and he shoots right in between them. The blood splatters on his pants and his boots. The life fades from her eyes, which continue to stare at Rick. Her body drops at his feet, and her blood starts to pool around his shoes.

* * *

 **Friday 12: oo am**

 **..**

…

Tyrese drags Andrea's body, and Sasha shoots every savior, which she manages to spot. Rick has a message, and he wants to make sure that the delivery is impeccable.

They reach the gate of the saviors' headquarter, and Tyrese carefully places Andrea's body to the grounds. Rick pulls the note out of his pocket, and he places it on top of Andrea.

Rick fires a few shots to attract the savior attention as they drive away from the place.

"So now, that you have dug your grave, which body should fill it?" Sasha asks Rick, and she stares at the chaos, which he provoked.

Rick smirks, and he stares at Negan's silhouette.

Negan picks up the card on top of Andrea's body, and he winces at the pain in his knee.

 _ **Right on schedule. Day seventh**_

 _ **Regards S.W.**_

…

…

…

 _ **Ps: March is super charged, and so I will update all my other Richonne's fics when I get a minute to breathe. Nothing is abandoned or in hiatus. I am just drowning under studies.**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

 **Please, review**

 **PS: THE FIC HAS A PLAYLIST AND YOU CAN FIND THE LINK ON MY TUMBLR Elsac2**

* * *

 **Chapter XIV: Friday's Fear and Saint Saturday**

* * *

 **Friday 1: 25 am**

 **.**

 **.**

Andre stands at the door of Carl's room, and the new house terrifies him. Grandpa Carl and Grandma Juliette are kind, but he dislikes the place. Andre has a room, but he prefers his old room. He wants his toys and his mom. After exhaling, Andre enters Carl's room.

"Carl?" Andre says as he stops near Carl's bed.

Carl sits and smiles to a frowning Andre. Carl reaches for Andre, and he helps him to the bed. Andre leans to Carl's flank, and he rests his head on Carl's arm.

"Yes, Andre?" Carl asks when he notices the quiet turmoil, which stresses Andre.

A small pout sits on Andre's lips, and he pinches the bridge of his nose like Rick when he is anxious. Carl ruffles Andre's curls, and he drags him in a warm hug. Andre hides his face in Carl's chest, and the tears are not far.

"I'm a big boy," He whispers to himself.

Rick and Michonne always tell him that he is a big boy to encourage him. Now, Andre attempts to cling on the comfort of these words. He misses Rick and Michonne.

"You're a big boy," Carl agrees, and he pats Andre's back.

To hear the words from someone, who he loves, reassures Andre. The frown on his forehead starts to disappear, and he wipes the tears, which successfully invaded the rim of his eyes.

"Okay…" He breathes, and his hug around Carl's tightens.

Although he does not dare to speak, Andre's body language is loud. They are silent for a few minutes, and Andre swings his leg at the edge of the bed. He stares at Carl, and he does not dare to ask. His timidity resurfaces, and Andre is only a lively child around Michonne and Rick.

"Andre, can you stay with me?" Carl asks, and he believes that the reason why Andre came to his room.

"You're scared," Andre asks, but it sounds like an attempt to find a kindred spirit.

"Yes, a little bit," He admits, and Andre pats his back to soothe him.

"My mommy says it's okay to be scared," Andre says with the will to comfort Carl, and it helps quiet his fears.

"My dad says it too, and he says that you should not be ashamed," Carl adds, and Andre agrees with a nod

"Okay…" Andre sighs with relief, and he dares to express his anxiety "Do you know when mommy and Rick will come back? I miss them," He roughly wipes his eyes.

"Tomorrow, but I'm here." Carl wipes Andre's rebellious tear, and he hugs him with tenderness.

"Okay, thank you," Andre never forgets his manners, "don't be scared, and I'm a big boy. I will protect you." Andre repeats what Rick tells him when he is too afraid to sleep alone in the dark.

"Thank you, Andre."

* * *

 **Friday 1:45 AM**

 **.**

 **.**

Rick left a few hours ago, and Michonne does not know what will silence her anxious thoughts. From pacing back and forth to drink an incommensurable amount of chamomile tea, nothing is efficient. Her heart is constricting at every sound. She listens to the step coming near her room with wavering hope.

The door ultimately opens, and he basks in the corridor lights. Michonne leaps out of bed, and she runs in Rick's arms. She crushes him with her hug, and she passionately kisses him. Rick easily lifts Michonne's from the floor, and he presses her back to the door. He kisses her until she is dizzy, and she continues intermittently to steal kisses between breaths.

"Hey," She whispers between kisses.

"You should sleep," Rick puts Michonne down, and he needs to remove his soiled clothes.

"After the way you left, I couldn't," Michonne replies, and she starts to unbutton Rick's shirt.

Rick kisses her hands, and he pulls his shirts out of her hands. Exhaustion stretches his delicate features. Michonne easily catches on his emotions, and she follows him in the bathroom. She removes her baby doll, and she joins him under the warm water.

The blood drips from his flesh, and it pools at the bottom of the shower. Michonne passes her finger through Rick's wet curl, and she kisses Rick's back. She wraps her arms around his waist, and she presses her cheek to his back.

"Rick?" Michonne decides to break the comforting silence, and she knows how he hates to express his emotions.

"I want it," He replies to the question, which will follow her thoughtful introduction.

"I still feel like telling you that there is no need," Michonne follows Rick's lead, and she confesses.

Rick turns to face her, and his smile is not bright. There is disillusionment in his eyes, and he rests his head on the cold shower's tiles wall. He looks into Michonne's eyes, and he has answers for the questions, which she refuses to ask for the sake of peace.

"Do you want to raise Andre around this violence?" Rick digs into the mud, and he unearths the ugliness of their relationship, "Do you want Carl to take over when I can't handle the business anymore?" He challenges Michonne.

He knows the answers, and Michonne decides to ignore those answers. The fear to lose Rick has compromised her.

"No, but if…" She wants to answer, but Rick's bitter laugh interrupts Michonne.

"Foot soldier," He amusedly states, "I started at the bottom of the totem. A corrupt cop, a small bribe here and there to look the other side." He attempts to draw the picture for Michonne, "a lot more innocent, and I was still wet behind the ears. Nothang too dirty, I hoped to keep my hands clean. Pick the extra money and keep Lori happy and off my back." Rick plunges to a past, and the tale of his rise to power is one, which he does not share until he feels vulnerable.

"Baby," Michonne senses Rick's discomfort, and she does not want to know what takes such efforts to share.

"I'm ambitious, and the bottom of the totem isn't for me. I worked my way to a higher rank. First watching the exchanges and then cleaning team, it was still pretty innocent." Rick's hands run along Michonne's shivering arm, and the water is colder with each passing second.

"I get the boss' call, and she likes my style," Memories pour out of Rick's mind "Deanna wasn't ruthless, and she was naïve. Although I learned the basics from her, and she gave me my killing order." He fondly speaks of his mentor.

"I peed myself on the job," He laughs at the memory, and he looks at Michonne, which silently watches him have a cathartic experience.

"I was shaking and crying, but I still went through it. Until my tenth kill, I would have nightmares and remember the faces. After I stopped to keep count, and later, I didn't care for who stood between me and what I wanted." His tone is sharper than when he started the tale, and Michonne sees the sweet officer disappear to birth the ruthless man, who Rick has become.

"I made it to second faster than many did. I was no longer doing it because I wanted to keep my family afloat. I loved doing it." He admits, and he has an affinity for violence.

"ASZ was my baby, and later, Deanna started to endanger my baby. A split second, it was all I needed to make a decision. I knew the basics. She was naïve. Daryl killed her son, Sasha killed her husband, and I killed her. I took over. Sasha became second. These are thangs, which I can do." His words challenge Michonne, and there is the question, which he no longer needs to ask.

"Rick?" Michonne attempts to silence him, and she presses her lips to his.

"That is a child's tale, Princess." He purposely chose to tell Michonne his story to shatter her hope to have a successful family life with this version of him, "You don't want to raise children with Rick Grimes mob boss. You blindly love me, but you aren't naïve. You know what I can do, but it hasn't brought chaos at your door. You will forgive me anything. If someone harms Andre or Carl, you will despise me," Michonne can't disprove the truth.

"I'm not naïve, princess. I have everything to lose. This is the easiest thing to lose," Rick confesses, and his thumb absently brushes Michonne's lips, "Carl, Andre, and you are what matters. I started because I wanted to keep my family happy, and it is fitting to stop for the same reason."

"Okay…" Michonne quiets her fears, "but I need you to make me a promise," She demands

"Anythang," Rick agrees with a comforting smile.

"As long as it brings you back home, you remain ruthless," There is a silent plea in her voice.

"Okay," Rick drawls, and he tilts Michonne's head to look into her eyes.

"I love you," She says as she rises on her toes to kiss him.

"I know, princess," He cockily replies, and Rick's nose brushes Michonne's one.

"Now, tell me you love me and kiss me," She nibbles his lower lip, and she licks the mark of her teeth.

"Let me do somethang better," Rick says as he lifts Michonne and presses her back to the shower.

His lips find her neck, and he slowly kisses along the curvature of it. His mouth worships her collarbone, and he draws a path of burning kisses and bite-marks until her nipples, which he dedicatedly. He carefully parts her slits, and he tenderly shows her his need of her with each deep thrust.

* * *

 **Friday 2: 56 AM**

 **.**

…

The paper box oozes with blood, and Sasha looks at Daryl with concern. He senses her glaring glance on his back, and he sighs with annoyance. Daryl groans and Sasha holds her tongue because they have a mission.

"Watch my back, babe," Daryl asks with a tone full of implications.

Sasha refuses to focus on their last argument. When Rick gives an order, she does not question it. For a man like Merle, she would not allow herself to feel any remorse.

"Always," She says with growing frustration, and she carefully places her rifle and the visor, "but you're sure you aren't mad," Sasha asks as she aims for the two police officer guarding the entrance.

"I'm beyond mad but orders, right," Daryl sarcastically replies, and he starts to head toward the police department.

He drags the box, which contains Merle's body. Daryl's emotions are higher than usual, and he is only helping for Sasha's sake. He waits for Sasha to take out the police officer present in the place. Daryl does not understand Rick sudden need to risk everything, which they work for all these years. Now, they have to involve the police. Although, he follows the order and dumps Merle's body where Rick wants.

"Don't you want a family?" Sasha asks after the silence between them exhausts her.

"With you?" Daryl reluctantly joins the conversation, "who wouldn't want one?" He leans to kiss her.

"Then we stick with Rick," Sasha says when she ends the kiss with Daryl.

"When did we not stick by him," Daryl asks with a bitter tone, and he watched her kill his brother, "I know that he is acting dumb, and I'm not sure that he isn't thinking of ASZ." He expresses his frustration, which has started to grow, "We are all working so he can get some classy pussy," He airs his grievance, "Fucking princess isn't worth a war, which we are going to lose."

"We stick by Rick," Sasha decides to ignore his anger and grief-fueled rant

"I guess we do…"

* * *

 **Friday 8: 40 am**

 **.**

 **.**

The Atlanta police department is a scene of ultimate chaos. There are forensic at every corner, and Morales stares at his desk. Silently, he curses while his colleague takes for interrogation. Fortunately, he managed to hide the card addressed to him. The open paper box stains his desk, and Morales' fury creeps to the surfaces.

"No one touches that box," The entire precinct stops their activities, and they face a man, who only graces them of his visit when matters are of higher scale.

Captain Morgan Jones walks into the gruesome crime scene, and He can already hear the pressure of his superior. This investigation will be a priority, and with so many dead police officers, the press will camp in front of the precinct.

"We have three officers killed, and we have a body in a box," Morgan announces, and he knows they are dealing with a similar investigation, "the entire precinct is a crime scene."

"Get me, Grimes," He barks an order as he walks inside his temporary office.

"Okay, Captain Jones," Rosita replies as she already picks her phone to call Rick.

* * *

After a long hour of interrogation, Morales lastly can pass a call. He picks a cigarette, and he walks away from the agitation. He pulls the card out of his pocket, and he reads the short cryptic message on it. Morales pulls his phone out.

"Found Merle," He announces with an unfazed tone when Philip picks the call.

There is a moment of silence, and Morales fills his lung with smoke. Philips sighs, and he foresees a problem,

"Does he have an explanation for his disappearance?" Philips asks with annoyance, and he hates when the plan has to change because pawns can follow orders.

"Yeah, he is dead," Morales dispassionately replies, and he does care for his partner fate, "They sent his body in a box with a message for you," He explains, and he twists the card in his hand.

"A message for me?" The governor becomes intrigued.

"It reads a 'what is mine is not yours to govern, and how pretentious is to call yourself a governor when you're a crawling parasite.' They added a series of numbers." Morales reads the number for Philip.

"Retell me the numbers," He asks while he records them on a piece of paper.

"Coordinates?" The governor reads the number on the paper, and he adds the degrees.

"What?" Morales asks with slights confusion.

"Someone has a clear message for us, and they know we are coming," Philip says, and his words carry his frustration.

"Who?" Morales asks with slight excitement, and he wants to confront the people, who are insane enough to put such a show.

"Those numbers point to Alexandria." Philip's anger heavily coats the words, and he stares at the screen of his phone, "There will be no subtle approach," he regrets the loss of advantages.

"There is nothing about ASZ," Morales frustratedly adds, "We have no face," He points out, and for that reason, they held going after Rick's group.

"We have a potential name," Philip laments the slowness of his partners.

He almost regrets Andrea's loss, and she could follow the gymnastics of his mind. Now, he has to deal with brute force.

"I don't follow," Morales echoes the governor's thought

"Why would you? Get me, Grimes. Negan has no reason to go after a police detective. I want to talk about Walsh,"

* * *

 **Friday 8: 57 am**

 **.**

…

Michonne's mind is in a high alert state, and through the night, she moves at every sound, which Rick's bed. She tightly wraps her body around his. She jumps if the bed winces. Belatedly, Michonne falls asleep when Rick stops to twitch.

Rick's phone rings and he quickly picks the call. He moves to the bathroom, and he does want to disturb Michonne's fragile sleep. He rises from the bed, and the slight wincing of the mattress arouses Michonne. She anxiously reaches for the other side of the bed. Although, Rick has moved to the corridor to have a quiet conversation.

Michonne leaves the bed, and she goes to the bathroom to check if Rick is inside. She needs visual reassurance, and Michonne's encounter with Negan has left her paranoid. She does not want to be alone, and she has many anxious thoughts.

When she does not find him in the bathroom, Michonne exhales. Michonne's concern rises and the room's atmosphere is oppressive. Michonne rushes to the corridor, and she needs to find Rick.

"What is going on, Rick?" Michonne asks when Rick abruptly ends his call at the sight of her.

"Nothing," He attempts to dismiss Michonne with a smile, which mimics a grimace.

"The truth," Michonne softly demands, and she needs the truth to remain grounded.

"The truth is that you need to memorize the numbers. I tried the craziest shit, and whatever happens, the children and you will be safe. I would not have fucked it all for nothing," Rick's answer does not expend, but the confession of his new fear softens Michonne.

She looks at him, and she leans against the corridor's wall. Michonne extends her hand for Rick, and he intertwines their fingers.

" Caiman 657930963709876," Michonne tentatively says," Belize 879045786701," She continues to revisit her memories for each of the bank account, which Rick tried to make her remember, " Saint Martin 66480934609875," There is a dozen of specific accounts, and they all have different functionality.

"Longitude 7° and latitude 46°," Michonne also mentions the important location for the business, "You used Bissau, Aruba, and Juarez for transit. The border is the place for the pickup." Rick nods, and the thought that she has a blanket of safety calms Rick, "You import from Kiev and Bucharest through the Atlantic line, and there is heavy artillery with no identifiable number series for the Ak44," She proves that she understands the gravitas of the situation.

"Do I need to remember the client list?" Michonne asks after her demonstration, and he hears her annoyance through the small challenge that she issues.

"That is Sasha's thang," Rick replies with slight amusement

"Rick?" Michonne anxiously asks, and she does not want to think about the worst.

"I need you to be ready for anything. Tonight is going to be chaotic, and you're making it out alive." Rick's amusement disappears.

"We're making out alive," Michonne, corrects Rick, and he chuckles.

Her naivety is endearing. Rick caresses Michonne's hand, and he pulls her to him.

"That is the goal," He agrees with Michonne to placate her anxiety.

"Whatever happens to me, you focus on Carl and Andre." He starts to lead Michonne back to the room.

"Rick," She senses that the conversation has ended, but she wants to prolong it until Rick gives her reassurance on their future.

"I love you," Rick says, and he goes to the bathroom.

* * *

 **Friday 9 : 30 AM**

"Do you have something for me, Grimes?" Morgan asks as soon as Rick walks inside the precinct, and he sits on Rick's desk, "This is no longer a mere murder investigation. We have four dead officers. The internal affair is after your partner. What mess is that?" He asks Rick to follow him.

"A mob war, captain," Rick says as he pulls his case files, "Mike Anthony's murder is the tree hiding the forest."

Morgan nods, and he silently asks Rick to pursue. Rick spreads the highlights of his investigation. Rick's gamble is dangerous, but he has no intention to destroy to mob group with his men.

"There is an entanglement of the case with a 'dead' bureau agent. The forensic discovered her DNA on the crime scene. Three years ago, Amy Harrison reported her sister's disappearance" Rick continues to spin the tale.

He passes the file to Morgan, and he knows how Amy Harrison's death will benefit him. Rick slowly starts to tie the loose end, and Morales happens to be an annoying one.

"You can guess who worked on the case, which was inconclusive." Rick passes Morgan the case report on Andrea's disappearance, and for once, Merle's sloppiness profits Rick.

"Dixon," Morgan replies, and he starts to read the report with blatant omitted facts.

"Dixon and Morales." Rick internally grins, and he points at the second name on the file.

"Dixon and Morales worked on Anthony's disappearance. The widow claims that I was reluctant and another inconclusive investigation." He continues, and Rick makes a remark that deepens the depth of the grave, which he digs for Morales, "I went through their records, and there is a pattern for the inconclusive case. The association with the mob easily appears."

"The widow is the woman, who accused you of her husband's murder?" Morgan asks, and Rick understands that he is questioning Michonne's reliability.

"Well, Dixon needed me to help with Anthony's case. She had received a body part, which we believed to be an animal part at the time." He quickly explains Merle's attitude during the interrogation, and the dead cannot defend themselves.

"Lastly, she claims to report many threats. They never made it to anyone desk. The order to hold back her complaints came from my desk, but they are…look," Rick pretends not to understand how it happened.

"Grimes?" Captain Jones has made the obvious connection.

Shane fits the bills more than officer friendly Grimes, and with his impending affair for harassing Michonne, the connection easily comes. For all those reasons, Rick decided to involve the police in his war.

"I don't want to involve the wrong people," Rick stutters, and he feigns guilt and uncertainty, "I have known him all my life, Captain," He adds after Morgan's insistence.

"Grimes," Morgan remains unfazed by Rick's loyalty.

"I don't have to detail to you Shane's case with internal affair. She could be lying or making another false accusation. She accused me of killing her husband." Rick continues to pretend.

"What are you holding on, Grimes? This is no longer some isolated incident, and soon, the press and the FBI will come knocking." Morgan attempts to pry the lies, which Rick is eager to tell.

"She claims that Walsh harassed her over her husband's accounting book. Now, he didn't tell me anything about it and worked on this entire investigation alone." With that statement, Rick starts to wash his hands from any malpractice.

"Last night, when I drove Mrs. Anthony home. She gave me these books." He passes Mike's accounting book, which Michonne located during her fail attempt to solve everything, "I am no good with numbers, and so I sent a copy to the fraud department. Mike Anthony was laundering money for Atlanta biggest mob groups. He was the go-to guy for every major criminal." Rick explains, and Morgan sighs with frustration.

"I'm getting the gang and organised crime on this." Morgan throws Mike's accounting books on his desk.

"Captain, this is my case," Rick has a moment of panic, and he needs to lead the case to achieve his plan.

"I know Grimes, and you will get to call the shot. I need results," Captain Jones reassures Rick.

"I will get you that," Rick feigns the passion for his works.

"I also need someone to watch Walsh," Morgan orders Rick to put detail on Shane.

"Captain?" Rick magistrally feigns the confusion while he successfully pins his crimes on Shane.

"The guys from organised crime have a theory about one of the major mob organisation, and one of these books has confirmed it." Morgan does not extend.

Rick stares at the pile of accounting books, and he had someone forge Mike's handwriting. He placed all the Asz's funds, which Mike embezzled, to a Bangladeshi account that belongs to a shell corporation. When they investigate the shell corporation, Shane Walsh will be the owner.

"I want details on Morales too, captain," Rick asks Morgan.

He requires a way to explain his connection with Morales, "They sent the package to him," Rick says as he pulls the evidence, which he asked Sasha to place on Merle's body.

"Consider it done," Morgan agrees.

* * *

 **FRIDAY 10: 46 AM**

"Williams?" Rick calls for Tyrese where he goes to the gang and organised crime department.

"Yes, Grimes?" Tyrese answers and he quizzically stares at Rick.

"Pick your best men. The captain wants our department to collaborate, and I heard that you're the expert on mob behaviour around here," Rick says for the sake of the prying ears.

"I am," Tyrese humbly replies, and he is when he does not have to protect his sister and Rick's double life.

Without Sasha's association with Rick, Tyrese would have remained a decent police officer. Although, Rick would have attempted to recruit him to secure a key player.

"I will need your expertise. I have names coming up over and over, but don't ring a bell to me." Rick continues to have a futile conversation with Tyrese.

"What names?" He replies, and Tyrese has already started an investigation on Alexandria to match Rick's narrative.

"Negan, it sounds familiar?" Rick asks, and the entire goal of the statement is to implicate Shane.

"Alexandria," He continues to plant the hint, and Tyrese will harvest them.

"The governor," Rick continues to list his opponent and makes them the target of the police.

"Gregory," He brings up the dead mobster to unearth Andrea's last assignment.

"Everything sounds familiar, but one name," Tyrese replies, and he has done a great job mapping the existence of the organisation, which he protected for years.

"Work on that name then, and give me what you have on everything else," Rick says.

"Gregory is on FBI classified information," Tyrese magistrally introduces the plan, "I need clearance first."

"Or ask Rhee in I.T to help with it," Rick advises, "Tell him you're helping me."

* * *

.

 **Friday 1: 54 pm**

 **.**

 **.**

The last person, who he expects to find sitting on his desk, waits for Rick. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and he prays for patience. Rick slowly approaches his soon-to-be ex-wife.

"What do you want?" Rick asks Lori, and he reluctantly leans against his desk.

"To talk, Rick," Lori says with a softer tone, and she stands to close the distance between Rick and her.

She assumes that he has to watch his actions in public, and he will be approachable.

"Forget about it Lori," Rick laments when she attempts to rest her hand on his chest, "sign the fucking divorce papers." He expects those words to echo as a goodbye.

"I have been looking into your little mistress." She pulls a new article from her bag, "Michonne is her name, and well, it comes up in some nasty story." Lori's malice resurfaces.

"Lori?" Rick remains unimpressed, and a headache is surfacing.

"Isn't against your ethics? Are you that naïve? She is fucking you, and so she doesn't go to jail." Lori states and Rick laughs to the point of tears

"Are you done being delusional?" He asks when he finally gets that laugh out of him.

"Internal affair will love to hear that story. I haven't said anything yet …" She whispers with a smile spreading on her lips, and Rick, returns her amusement.

" No one will believe you," Rick returns the newspaper, which Lori brought, "Sweetheart, half of this office knew which dick you were bouncing on, and it wasn't mine. Once you speak, it is your words against hers and mine; a widow, who has been through trauma, and the nicest cop of the precinct." Rick slowly explains, and he hopes that his words will shatter her delusional beliefs.

"Me, the idiot, who didn't know that his wife was fucking his partner. You're going to make a fool of yourself, and I will ask a restraining order. It should speed up the divorce, and the child abuse case will be the nail on the coffin." Rick says when Lori does not take the hint to leave.

"You're obsessed with the wrong man. Redirect your attention to someone eager to have it." Rick moves away from her, and Lori starts to follow him.

"Rick," Lori shouts after Rick, and she starts to attract the attention.

"Mrs. Anthony?" Rick halts in front of Michonne and Sasha, "This way," He says as he attempts to lead Michonne to an interrogation room.

"I have work to do," He tells Lori as she catches up with him.

"Is it what you call meeting your bitch?" Lori hisses after an angry look directed at Michonne.

"Detective Grimes." Michonne decides to ignore Lori's presence "if it is the wrong time, I will come back." She adds.

"She is on her way out," Rick pointedly says, "Lori?"

"Sorry for standing between you and your bitch." Lori steps in front of Michonne.

"Charming," Michonne offers an amused smile, and she steps aside.

"Watch what you say to me," Lori attempts to rile Michonne, and she wants people to witness the altercation.

"What I had to say to you, I made sure that it was crystal clear." Michonne calmly replies, and with her attitude, she displays that aristocratic attitude, which earned her nickname, "I will be waiting, detective." Michonne walks away from the pair, and as anticipated, Rick runs after her.

"You will pay for this," Lori shouts after Michonne's shadow, "my words against yours, right," She already thinks of implicating Shane.

* * *

 **Friday 2: 35 pm**

 **.**

…

"Detective Grimes?" Michonne yelps when Rick pulls her to him, and he drags her into a deserted corner.

"That is super sexy," He says as he leans to kiss her, and he tightly circles her waist, which her skintight cocktail dress highlights.

"This is super inappropriate," Michonne says between kisses, and her arms close over his shoulders to pull him closer, "What is this all about?" She asks after another slow kiss.

"Moving my investigation forward," Rick replies, and his hands move from Michonne's waist to rest on her ass.

"Okay," Michonne rolls her eyes, and she slightly shoves him away from her.

"I will need you to play the widow, which only discovered her husband's double life," Rick tells Michonne as she starts to walk out of the corner.

"I wouldn't have to play much," Michonne says

"I found this," Rick pulls a picture of Mike and Andrea looking happy and very much kissing.

Michonne stares at the picture, and aside from a bruised ego, she does not feel the expected ache.

"Baby, we don't need to rehearse, or it will look false." Michonne says as she takes the picture, and she straightens Rick's tie, "Handle the interrogation as you would do with everyone else, and I assure you that I will manage through it. If you can't, you think of it as role play," She finishes with confidence.

"Come here," Rick pulls Michonne back into his chest, and he kisses the curve of her neck, "do I ever tell you that your bossy side is a turn on, princess?"

"Richard, focus." Michonne moves out of his embrace, and she finally leaves the corner, where he trapped her.

"My priorities are very straight," Rick, groans while he readjusts his semi-hard dick, "very," He says as he watches Michonne walks away, and her dress is a second skin.

..

..

...

"Mrs. Anthony, sorry for making you wait," Rosita says as she walks inside the interrogation with Rick.

Michonne offers a smile full of mysterious meaning, and Rick knows that quiet posture. The princess is surfacing, and Rick has to admit that Michonne is exquisite.

"Why was I call in, detective grimes?" She manages to make her hostile tone sound elegant and demanding.

Rick sits opposite to Michonne, and he needs a reminder of Rosita's presence before he starts to flirt with Michonne. He passes his hand in his hair, and the moment is similar to their first encounter.

"We simply needed to check some fact with you, and you already know my partner, Detective Espinosa." Rick reintroduces Rosita because Michonne pointedly ignores the second detective

"Hello," Michonne says softly, and she offers a patronising smile.

With a simple smile, she manages to rile Rosita to a point where she cannot focus on the mistakes, which Michonne might make.

* * *

"And so you reported your husband's disappearance?" Rosita asks Michonne.

"I did, and detective Dixon told me that people like us, the "colored," we often abandon our family." Michonne says with a tone full of accusation and mistrust, "Detective Grimes later joined the investigation when I was sent a pork eye. So I was told," She continues with a glance at Rick, "I made other complaints because for weeks I continued to receive threatening packages, but no follow up."

"Could it have been possible that your husband left?" Rosita blinded by her new dislike for Michonne does not notice how Michonne subconsciously dictates her.

"Why would He? As far as I was concerned, we were happy but could have just been me. Mike had an entire life on the side." Michonne replies and she manages to weave hurt around her words, "After what happened with detective Dixon, I hired a private investigator." She takes a break, and she allows tears to fall. Michonne wipes her tears as quick as she should, "Mike had an affair with another woman."

"It was never reported," Rick lastly decides to ask a question.

"I spoke to detective Walsh when he insisted on the book and the money, which Mike stole," Michonne replies, and Rick wants to kiss her for knowing what to say.

"Which money," Rosita asks.

"I have no idea, and Mike didn't leave money for me or Andre. Therefore, I told detective Walsh multiple times. I gave him what the private investigator had: a photo of Mike and the woman." Michonne continues to shed her fake tears, and she searches through her bag.

"Here," She pushes the picture, which Rick gave her, "Her name is Andrea Blake. I believed that he ran to be with her." Michonne wipes her tears.

"Detective Dixon was right, but he should have looked for Mike." She continues feigning a breakdown, "He should have looked for him, and his death wouldn't have happened." She accusingly stares at Rick.

"Do you need a break, ma'am?" Rick asks, and he needs it more than she does because he wishes to kiss her.

"I'm fine, detective Grimes," Michonne takes a breath, and she straightens her spine to regain a dignified posture.

"I will take a minute," Rick leaves the interrogation to Rosita.

…

…

…

Rosita returns after half an hour, and she exhaustively sits on the other side of Rick's desk.

"Here?" She pushes her interrogation note toward him.

Rick quickly reads them, and he sighs. He inquisitively looks at Rosita.

"Why would Shane hide details from me?" Rick sounds hurt and appalled.

He takes the interrogation notes, and he wants to lead Rosita to believe that he questions the sincerity of Michonne's claim.

"Grimes, you need to forget about your friendship," Rosita says, and she strengthens Rick's certainty, " I don't believe this woman is lying, and it says a lot because she is a bitch," Rosita believes herself objective, and Rick thinks about get Michonne's her favourite orchids.

"Rhee has checked the record, and yes, her complaints were shut down." Rosita passes Glenn's report, and Rick knows what is inside it.

Glenn has recently had a son, and he has accepted to take small bribes from Rick.

"Walsh was on holiday for two weeks," Rick says to defend Shane.

"Exactly, it follows his return." Rosita highlights the date for Rick to see, "Go back in, and see what more you can get from her." She encourages Rick.

"By the way, the mistress is Andrea Harrison or Blake. She is the prime suspect in Anthony's murder." Rick tells Rosita after glancing at the picture, "Although, there is more to it."

* * *

 **Friday 4: 35 pm**

 **.**

…

"And so?" Sasha asks Michonne when she takes the passenger seat.

"I told a convincing lie," Michonne wipes the remains sign of her crocodile tears.

"You know what is going on," Sasha asks with a serious tone.

She pulls out of the parking, and she checks in the rearview if the Savior continues to tail them.

"He wants to retire," Michonne replies.

"He wants a family with you, and he is risking everything in the process." Sasha corrects Michonne with the facts.

"I didn't ask him to do anything," Michonne defends herself.

Sasha smiles, and she doesn't blame Michonne.

"You didn't have to ask. It is fair that he leaves for the same reason he started. Do you know that I was his partner? Deana thought we could work well together, and I basically taught him everything, which I knew." Sasha explains to Michonne, and her fondness for Rick colours her voice.

"Rick was a step ahead. When Deanna started to make the wrong moves, he saw it first. I saw it too. My loyalty to Rick is blind. He retires, and so I do. It is a suicide mission." She continues to help Michonne understand the gravitas of this moment, "He loves you enough to risk everything, and so I need you to make it easy for him, princess."

"No rogue mission to prove a point. I like you, Michonne, but if you threaten the success of this mission, I won't hesitate to take you out. Make it easy on Rick and me. You do as I say, and you don't try to outsmart me. I need to have always my eyes on you." Sasha finishes her statement.

* * *

 **Friday 8: 30 pm**

 **.**

…

Michonne excitedly picks her phone, and When Carl and Andre greet her, Michonne's heart floods with warmth and love.

"How are my boys?" She returns their question.

"We are doing fine," Carl replies, and he looks at Andre, who tries to burn his excess of energy, "Andre, it is Michonne," he says to a running Andre

"Mommy, I miss you," Andre shouts, and he continues to run around Carl.

"I miss you, peanut," Michonne replies "but I will see Carl and you tonight."

"Carl, mommy is coming tonight," Andre excitedly shouts, and Carl laughs, "Rick, I miss rick," Andre adds with sudden sadness.

"Good timing, Rick," Michonne says as Rick walks in the room, and she places the phone in his hand," your admirer."

"Hi, little man," Rick says with glee, "I heard you miss me," he continues the conversation.

"Carl's lap is meh," Andre says as an explanation.

"Andre," Carl expresses his indignation.

"Sorry, Carl" Andre sheepishly smiles, "Carl isn't big like you, and granddad says that I can sit on his laps. I don't like it, and so I miss you, Rick." Andre starts an endless tale about his breakfast today and Rick can on think that it is the best thing, which he heard.

"Don't worry, peanut, I will be with you as soon as I can. Do you like the horse on the farm?" Rick asks because he does not want the conversation to end.

"No, the horses are mean." Rick hears the frustration in Andre's voice

"Really," Michonne asks with a slight surprise for Andre's dislike of horses.

"Mommy, the horses eat people." Andre indignantly says.

"A horse bit his finger when he was feeding it," Carl informs Michonne and Rick with hidden amusement, "Now, he is afraid of horses."

"I'm not scared. The horses are mean," Andre shouts, and he glares at Carl.

"Sorry, Andre. You are right," Carl holds a laugh.

"Carl, I hope Andre isn't too difficult," Michonne says with some concern.

"No, he loves the farm, but he misses you both," Carl replies, and he did know how Michonne will receive the fact that he misses her.

"I miss both of you too, and so does your father." Michonne reads the lines.

"I miss you, son," Rick says with easiness, which he is glad to have.

"I miss you too, dad," Carl replies

"Talk to him." Michonne elbows Rick's ribs.

"So, grandpa is nice to you." He starts with an easy question.

"Grandpa is always nice," Carl, answers, "When are you coming?"

"As soon as I close Michonne's case." Rick sincerely answers.

"Be careful, dad" Carl sounds concerned.

"I promise that I will be," Rick replies, "Hey Carl, I love you."

"I love you, dad," Carl says with a lot of warmth in his voice.

"I love you, Rick" Andre shouts, and he is dizzy from running too fast, "I love you, Carl" he continues to shout, "I love you, mama"

"Someone called me?" Michonne asks from the bathroom

"I love you, peanut," Rick says with pride in being a decent father, "Andre says that he loves you," He tells Michonne.

"I love you peanut, and same goes to you, Carl. I will see you both tonight." Michonne shouts from the bathroom's door.

"See you tonight, Michonne." Carl says with a voice wavering due to his emotions, "Bye, dad, and be careful."

"I swear I will be careful," Rick promises.

"Be careful, Rick," Andre decides to parrot Carl, "Be careful, mama."

"Bye boys," Michonne says as she returns to the room.

"Someone allowed Andre to have too much sugar," Michonne knowingly points out.

"That would be my dad, and my mom must have encouraged it," Rick says as Michonne draws closer to him.

"Sounds cute,"

"Yeah…" Rick sighs with content, and the conversation, which he had with his sons, strengthens his resolution, "I guess we might be an old couple who give too much sugar to their grandchild," He kisses Michonne's forehead.

* * *

 **Saturday 1: 45 am**

 **.**

…

The knocks at the door are frantic, and Michonne awakens to the sound of chaos unfolding. She searches the other side of the bed for Rick, but she finds an empty warm spot. Disoriented and half-asleep, Michonne attempts to understand what is the cause of the tension, which she senses in the air.

"Dress up," Rick throws his shirt at Michonne.

She belatedly notices that he entered the room, and he is rummaging the cupboard. Michonne stares at Rick while he breaks the layers of the bedside cupboard, and shocked, she watches Rick pull heavy artillery, He lays the munitions on the bed, and he ransacks the closet to bring out more weapons.

The noise from the door is louder with each passing second, and Michonne remains frozen on the spot. She attempts to clear the fog around her mind, and Rick grabs the shirt, which he passed to her. He presses it in Michonne's hands.

"Dress up, princess." Rick lifts Michonne off the bed, and he slides her arms in the shirt.

Quickly, he half-buttons the shirt, and he returns to his search for more weapon. Michonne lastly retrieves the proficiency of her brain, and the noise around them is deafening. Michonne hears the gunshots in the background, and the panic in the frantic knock reverberates on the room's wall.

"What is going on?" She asks Rick while the sounds of her palpitating heart clog her ear.

Rick frames Michonne's face, and she fails to focus on him. The horrifying noises transpiercing the night frighten Michonne. She continuously glances at the window. Rick tilts Michonne's head, and he regains her attention. He looks into her deep brown eyes, and Michonne faces Rick's anxiety. The blue of his eyes has dulled into a pale silver, and the gravitas of the moment consumes the soul in his eyes.

"Michonne," Rick calls so she can focus, "listen to me," He insists, and she nods.

Michonne' hands cover Rick's ones, and she draws a deep breath. She attempts to ground her mind, and his warm palms on her face help Michonne. Her fingers fight their way to intertwinement with Rick's ones.

"I'm listening." She breathes the words, and her voice shakes.

Michonne jumps at the slight noise, and the cry of chaos outside the safety of the room is strident. The gunshots endlessly stretch the random moment of quietness.

"Don't stop for anything or anyone." Rick firmly orders, and Michonne stares at him in growing panic.

She processes the meaning of his words, and Rick has already left. She feels the ghost of his finger against her cheeks, and she stares at nothing. She shakily buttons her shirt, and Michonne watches Rick dexterously move around her. Her heartbeat continues to rise, and Michonne's head throbs. There is a strange feeling of dread, which takes residence in the pits of her stomach.

"Here," He shoves an automatic gun in her hands, and the cold metal startles Michonne, "do you know how to shoot," Rick asks as he already proceeds to start teaching her the basic.

"No…" Michonne almost shouts in panic when the gunshots are closer to the room.

Rick wraps Michonne's hand around the gun, and he unlocks the safety. He quickly lifts her arm, and he shows her the appropriate stance. He makes sure that she remembers always to hold it with both hands for support.

"Aim for the head," Rick tells Michonne, and she only can nod "don't pause, and don't hesitate." He insists.

"Rick?" Michonne questions him, and the gun in her hand is heavy.

Rick turns to face Michonne, and he comfortingly caresses her cheek. His thumb seeks her bottom, and Rick rests his forehead against Michonne's one. His nose brushes Michonne's temple and he tenderly kisses on her forehead.

"Breathe, Princess," He whispers in the hollow of her ear.

Anxiety radiates from Michonne's pores, and her tense muscles ache with apprehension. Rick's hand disappears in Michonne's head, and he tilts her head. He captures her lips with a kiss filled with annihilating passion. Although, Michonne tastes the desperation in how demanding his tongue's strokes are. His fingers tangle her hair, and she melts in his arms.

Passion morphs in tenderness. Rick's lips delicately explore the soft line of her jaws until Rick tenderly claims her lips. The kiss is slow, and his tongue wipes the remaining taste of anxiety in her. Rick' caress sets free the horde of butterflies in Michonne's stomach. Her skin tingles, and her heart appreciatively hums. He kisses her until air is a luxury, which she struggles to acknowledge the need of while she asphyxiates her lung with her need for him.

"I love you," She feels small at the moment, and her words sum the conflicted emotions, which boil under her skin.

Rick smiles, and it is a timid one. He caresses her cheeks, and he takes Michonne's hand.

"Don't stop even for me," Rick repeats as he opens the door on chaos.

* * *

 **Saturday 2: 37 AM**

 **.**

…

He covers Michonne's head with his arm, and he forces her to duck when a savior aims a gun at them. Michonne clings on Rick's shirt, and the savior's body falls after a series of gunshots. Rick and Michonne's hands remain clasped, and he carefully leads her between an open grave of bleeding unknown faces.

Michonne holds her panic cries, and the gun in her hand is of no use with trembling hands. It matters little if she can shoot, and Rick stands between every assailant and Michonne. Lights go on and off, and bodies endlessly adorn the mansion's corridor as they move from floor to floor.

Michonne knows the lit staircases, and she has walked the path every Thursday. Although, the mansion no longer holds its past glory, and the bleeding corpses have replaced Rick's men, who used to guard the corridor.

Rick drags Michonne to the floor, and his body buries her. Boots pass near her face, and Rick's hand holds the cry, which she almost released. The blood, which pools on the carpet, smears her bare legs. Michonne takes laborious breaths, and only Rick's comforting whispers prevent her breakdown.

Two saviors explore the room, where they lay on the carpet. Alone Rick would risk a frontal attack, but with Michonne by his side, he is unadventurous. He drags the knife strapped at his calves, and the cold metal caress Michonne's arm.

"It's fine," He whispers in the hollow of Michonne's ear, " I'm here, Princess." He focuses on calming Michonne while the blood of Saviors and Alexandrians indiscriminately soaks the shirt, which Michonne wears.

When one of the Saviors walks close to Rick, he ultimately strikes and severs the man's tendon. Blood splashes Rick's face, and he quickly rises to stab the Savior throat as he falls to his knee.

"Let's go," Rick whispers as he pulls Michonne on her feet, and he creeps behind the second Savior.

Rick aims for the head, and the Savior joins the endless sea of dead bodies. His bloody fingers firmly hold Michonne, and Rick only has one goal. He has to get Michonne to the escape point. He already knew that victory was not in the cards for his organisation. This war will wipe Alexandria.

Rick and Michonne run until their lungs burn, and Rick has lost count of the time, which the bullet came close enough to halt his heart. The handle of his colt burns his palm, and his fingers ache from holding tightly at his weapon. Rick adds ammunition in his gun, and he grabs the automatic assault rifle on his back. The lower floor is the centre of the cataclysm and the war front, which will decide their survival. Rick takes a deep breath, and his certainty wavers at the scene, which he witnessed when he enters the lower floor. Alexandria no longer exists, and it burns under the Saviors assault.

According to the plan, Sasha cleans the path from the balcony. Tyrese has killed as much as he could, and Rick turns to face a terrified Michonne. His calm and composed smile does not belong on a battlefield, but Rick warmly smiles to Michonne.

A few of his men have managed to push back the Saviors, and there is the momentum for the final escape. The funeral of his mobster life is incendiary, and Negan buries Alexandria. Rick takes a deep breath, and he kisses Michonne. The message is silent, but his men understood. Sasha takes the Saviors coming closer to Rick and Michonne. Their march to freedom is mournful, and the dead bodies pave the path to their promised haven.

* * *

Tyrese guards Rick's back, and the remaining Alexandrians disperse while the Saviors outside shout victory. There is a loud droning of motorcycles.

"Get me Shane Walsh, and don't harm the bitch," Michonne hears Negan's joyous cry, "Michonne..." He shouts, as he gets closer to the door.

"Lucille wants to meet your lover," He chants into a chorus of pleased followers,

"Focus, princess," Rick strives to regain Michonne's attention, "We are free," He kisses her again, and he celebrates while Michonne's stomach twists.

"Michonne..." Negan hurls from behind her, and she has to glance to see if he is behind them.

Tyrese is the only one in her back, and Sasha continues to clear the potential threats until she can no longer do it from her high ground. They head for the basement tunnel, and Rick starts repetitively to look in his back. He ultimately notices that one of his men is missing, and he frees Michonne's hand. She attempts to cling on Rick's fingers.

"Sasha?" He asks with a growing feeling of gloom.

"I don't know..." Sasha answers as she catches up with them, and she continues to shoot anything between them and the exit.

The winds of freedom whistle a dreadful hymn, and Rick's heart races. He pushes Michonne toward Tyrese. The stomping of boots is closer to them, and Negan's laughs resonate above the gunshots.

"Michonne, go," Rick insists when Michonne refuses to stick with Tyrese.

Sasha hesitates, and it is a costly hesitation. The arrow stabs Rick's knee and another one break through his thigh. Rick falls, and Michonne stops to rush toward him.

"Rick…Rick…Rick," She shouts while Negan gleefully shouts her name.

"Tyrese, hold her." Rick demands, and Sasha stares with shaking hands at their assailant, "Michonne..." He solves Sasha's dilemma.

"Let me go," Michonne shouts at him when Tyrese carries her away from Rick, "Rick…Rick" She sobs while she struggles to escape.

She looks beyond her shoulders, and she powerlessly watches it happen. Her eyes narrow on the leather jacket with the missing white wing and she hurls when the gunshot reverberates through the corridor. She almost manages to escape Tyrese, but he stops her. He drags her through the exit. Her mind fixates on Rick's smile, and Negan's laugh taunts her sanity.

"Rick," Michonne hurls until her lungs burn, and she claws at Tyrese's face to escape.

Michonne succeeds, and she starts to run back toward the mansion. The Dawn illuminates the place with amber rays, and Michonne desperately continues to run. Sasha grabs her elbow, and she pulls her away. Michonne shoves Sasha and her voice breaks. She hopelessly calls for Rick.

"Michonne, he is gone." Sasha says when she stops her from returning to the house, "We need to get you to Andre and Carl," She frames Michonne's face.

Sasha attempts to resonate with Michonne, and Michonne endlessly repeats Rick's name. The tears erode Michonne's skin, and she fights to escape Sasha's grip for half an hour. She strives to root her feet to the ground, and so they can't drag her away from Rick. Against Tyrese's strength has no chance to be victorious. Exhausted and traumatised, Michonne sinks to the ground. Her mind refuses to acknowledge what happens around her. Frozen is that warm smile, which can't comfort Michonne.

"Rick…Rick…"


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for the review**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

 **Please, review**

* * *

 **Chapter xv: Saturday's scream and Sunday's silent burial**

* * *

Rick's body unceremoniously hits the floor. In his contracting irises, Michonne's frame blurs. Quickly, the pain sets in, and Michonne's cry of agony shatters the numbness of his mind. He wants to reach for her, but he reigns on the impulse.

"Rick…Rick…Rick," Michonne's lamentations are piercing.

Rick draws a deep breath. The pain in his leg and knee begins to kick in. He barely can focus. The temptation to pull on the arrows becomes strong. The echoes of Michonne's steps resonate with a vibrating rhythm. Rick faces the bow and the man holding it. He glances at Michonne, and his heart halts. Not now, he can't help the thought.

"Michonne… sweet peach…Michonne," only the whining of steel grazing the old granite rises above Negan's voice.

The rhythm of Rick's heart accelerates. He looks at Michonne, and she desperately attempts to reach him. Negan's laughs reverberate on the wall. The blood in Rick's artery is cold, and the pulsations of his heart drown every sound around him. He decides with a confused mind.

"Tyrese, hold her." Rick demands, and Sasha stares with shaking hands at their assailant, "Michonne..." He solves Sasha's dilemma while he focuses on Daryl's bow.

Sasha lowers her rifle, and she wipes the cold sweat on her forehead. She gives a last glance to Daryl's back. She levels her rifle to aim for a shoot. Her eyes remain fixated on the target and Rick.

"Let me go," Michonne shouts at him when Tyrese carries her away from Rick, "Rick…Rick" She sobs while she struggles to escape.

Rick draws another deep breath. The steps are louder, and the pain is unbearable. Beyond Daryl's Michonne puts a fight to escape Tyrese. For a second, Rick hesitates. He stares at his old friend and his right hand. Daryl stills his hand. The bow is aimed at his head, and Rick endeavours to remain focused.

Michonne's voice starts to fade, and he exhales. Rick stares at Daryl, and the bow is no longer aimed at him. Negan's laugh draws closer. Rick looks around, and he hopes for the best. Tyrese has carried Michonne's out, and Rick lastly can be at peace.

At the sight of Dwight running toward him, Rick feels relief. Michonne's voice is no longer a fading echo, and she has managed to escape Tyrese's grip. Rick's peace dissolves, and he desperately stares at Michonne's running frame.

"Rick…" Her cry of terror fills the basement.

It is reassuring that Daryl's back blocks his view of her. Despite his best effort, Rick feels the panic invading him. Her pain distracts him. Although, the timing is wrong for sentimentalism. He will make it up to her. Rick thinks, and he has no time to think beyond now. Rick exchanges a look with Daryl, and the order remains the same.

Daryl sighs, and he questions his loyalty to Rick. With regrets, he throws his bow toward Dwight, and he pulls out his gun. He levels it up, and the chances of success are slim. Michonne's cries add to the tension. Negan' taunting laughs signal how near he is to them.

"Where?" Daryl courteously asks Dwight.

The adrenaline shouts through his vein. Sasha keeps her rifle up to watch Daryl's back. There is a small fraction of time to execute the plan with success. Her eyes remain lock on the basement's entrance.

"Fucking shoulder…" Dwight answers, and he prepares himself for the pain.

He aims his gun toward Daryl for it to be realistic. When Negan's laugh vibrates through the wall. Daryl shoots at Dwight, and he goes for the leg. The gunshot resonates, and through the chaos, Michonne's thoughts stop. She does not care for her surroundings.

Michonne looks beyond her shoulders, and she powerlessly watches it happen. Her eyes narrow on the leather jacket with the missing white wing, and she hurls when the gunshot reverberates through the corridor. She almost manages to escape Tyrese, but he stops her. He drags her through the exit. Her mind fixates on Rick's smile, and Negan's laugh taunts her sanity.

Sasha lowers her riffles, and she runs to Daryl. She drags his hands, and she presses keys into his palm. He pulls her to him, and he kisses her as if tomorrow will never come. Sasha and Rick exchange a quiet look, and she knows what he expects of her. She sighs, and she begins to head toward the exit.

"Rick," Michonne hurls until her lungs burn, and she claws at Tyrese's face to escape.

Michonne succeeds, and she starts to run back toward the mansion. The Dawn illuminates the place with amber rays, and Michonne desperately continues to run. Sasha grabs her elbow, and she pulls her away. Michonne shoves Sasha and her voice breaks. She hopelessly calls for Rick.

"Michonne, he is gone." Sasha says when she stops her from returning to the house, "We need to get you to Andre and Carl," She frames Michonne's face.

…

…

…

Dwight clings at the bow. Daryl grabs Rick, and he begins to drag him away from the basement as Negan enters his vision field. Daryl shoots to permit an exit for Rick and him. Fucking Rick Grimes and his insanity, Daryl moves through the small corridor with a limping Rick. They only have to make it to the car, and with the chaos around the police must be close to the mansion.

The sirens are loud, and Rick suffocates cries of pain while he pushes on his legs. His hand shakes as he aims his weapon. Daryl heads toward him, and it is the wrong time to act weak. They have a small window to escape.

Daryl made sure that the arrow hit nothing major, and it is merely a flesh wound. However, the night has been rough, and a flesh wound is enough to weaken Rick. Although, he can think of how weak he feels. The only thing that matter is to reach the exit. Daryl stops for Rick, but there is no time to stop.

They continue to run as they can hear the boots behind them. Rick turns, and he shoots. He is wasting ammunition. The pain is strong, and he fails to focus. Although, he can see the exit. The bright sun assaults his eyes. Daryl continues to drag him forward, and some bullets come close of hitting Rick.

"I'm fine," Rick drags himself away from Daryl when they make it to the car.

There is a moment of panic. Daryl can't push the key in the car. The adrenaline renders him clumsy. The saviors have caught up, and the police's sirens are no longer distant. The Alexandria mansion is burning to the ground. Rick's men, who have survived, know the plan. The thing begins to turn into a trap for the saviors. The saviors after Rick and Daryl turn tail and the priority is to escape the police.

"Fucking Rick," Daryl draws a deep breath, and he begins to drive away from the burning mansion.

* * *

Soon the gunshots no longer resonate around them. Rick looks behind to check who is following. He watches his mob empire burn to the ground. There are many police car rushing toward Alexandria's mansion. There are saviors on their bike or in cars escaping away from the chaos. Daryl continues to drive, and the goal is to put a maximum distance between the mansion and them. As they move, the sounds of sirens drown.

"Never ask me to shoot you again," Daryl tells Rick after a deep breath.

He looks into the rearview, and there are no cars following them. They only have a few more miles. Daryl drives faster.

"It's fucking hell," Rick's voice is raspy, and he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Exhaustion has begun to claim his body. Daryl taps on his cheek to arouse him. Rick grunts and he needs to be aware of his surroundings.

"Here," Rick points out on the side of the road, "Ditch the car," He tells Daryl, "We will have to walk a bit before we take the other car."

Daryl stares at Rick, and he wonders how insane his friend is. Rick can hardly stand, and he wants to walk. Daryl knew the entire plan was shitty at best, and as the minutes flow into hours, he remains convinced.

"You can't walk," Daryl argues in vain, and Rick is already limping out of the car. "Rick?"

"Ditch the fucking car, and let go." Rick groans and the Georgian sun only makes him feel as if he might die.

"Fuck it," Daryl gets down.

He walks faster to catch up with Rick, and he slides under Rick's arm to help him walk. The sun is unbearable. Rick's leg is bleeding and slightly numb. He swallows his pain, and they continued to walk until the spot where Sasha parked the second car.

"Rick?" Daryl calls when Rick almost loses conscience.

"I'm fucking fine," Rick answers, and he has never felt worse in his life, "Let keep on moving."

After half an hour, Daryl and Rick arrive at the parking. They look around for any curious eyes, but Sasha chose the place for its remote location. Rick carelessly throws himself in the backseat, and the pain claims his consciousness.

* * *

For most of the ride, Michonne does not move. Sasha continuously checks on the rearview, and Michonne wears the same blank expression. She feels numb, and her mind screams. The scene plays in a loop in her head, and his genuine smile will haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Carl?" Michonne mumbles, and it will fall on her to tell Carl what happened.

The tears return, and her body can't contain so much pain. She feels as if her sanity will slip through her fingers. It is almost comforting to think that she will go mad. She can't stop thinking about Rick's smile. Michonne can't stop thinking about Rick. Her heart is bleeding. Her entrails are burning. She will rather go mad.

"Andre?" She thinks of her son, who adores Rick.

They have a family, and Michonne begins to worry about her sons. How is she going to ease them through the news? How? How? How? Michonne endlessly asks herself. Her guilt threatens to swallow her. If she had not run, this war would not have happened.

"We need to go back," Michonne raises her voice, and the sound carries anguish, "We left Rick behind, and we need to go back." She shouts with growing anxiety.

Michonne does not care about what she has seen. Rick Grimes is alive. Sasha's soothing voice does not matter. Rick Grimes is alive.

"Michonne," Sasha begins with utter care in her voice.

Michonne glares at Sasha, and she will not listen. Rick is alive. She knows it, and Michonne does not understand why they can't feel it. They don't love him as she does. He is not their soulmate. He is not the father of their sons. Rick Grimes is all of these to Michonne, and so she knows when he is alive. Her eyes are wrong. Sasha is wrong. Therefore, they need to go back to him.

"We need to go back," Michonne's answer is dispassionate.

Perhaps, she has gone insane if she refuses to believe her eyes. She does not care if she sounds insane. Michonne knows in the beat of her heart that Rick is alive. She would not be able to breathe if he was dead. The numbness, the tears, and her shaking body represent nothing. Michonne looks at her lap, and the gun, which he gave her rest on it.

With no care for consequences, Michonne raises the gun and she shoots at the glass. Rick said that she should not hesitate to use it when it was necessary. She only has to aim and shoot. The first shot was a warning. Michonne points the gun at Tyrese, and she does not care if he drives off the road. She does not care for anything. They have to go back for Rick.

Michonne does not aim at Sasha because she cares for her as a friend, and she might hesitate. Michonne has not met Tyrese before, and in her mind, which is losing it reason, he is a target that she won't hesitate to shoot.

"Turn the car around," Michonne demands, and her voice is high pitched.

She knows that she sounds insane. Michonne feels insane. She feels the pain. Tyrese does not do what she asked for, and Michonne's finger grazes the trigger. The pain is unbearable. Losing Mike did not feel this intense, and Rick Grimes is her soulmate. Rick is alive. If he is dead, she has to blame herself.

"We are going back," Michonne says with conviction, "Rick is alive." She glances at Sasha for some support.

Sasha looks his blank, and she is careful. Michonne is agitated, and she tightly holds the gun.

"Think this through, princess," Sasha says, and Michonne's arm trembles.

The pain is unbearable, and she wants to hear his drawl drag the word princess. She wants to hear Rick tease her about her bourgeois behaviour. Michonne already misses him, and she can't endure the emptiness.

"Turn around?" Michonne does not waver.

"I can't Rick's order," Tyrese answers, and he does not seem panicked.

Michonne edges closer on the backseat, and she presses the cold canon in Tyrese's head. Her hand is shaking. If anyone comes to doubt it, Michonne would kill for Rick. Sasha grasps the knowledge better than Tyrese does.

"Turn around?" Sasha tells Tyrese, and they exchange a quiet look.

"Thank you…" Michonne says with exhaustion, and she lowers her arm.

Sasha looks at Michonne, and she understands the pain. However, she has orders to follow. Michonne immediately returns to her state of numbness. Carefully, Sasha picks the gun from Michonne's hand, and with a swift motion to Michonne's temple, she strikes hard enough. Michonne loses consciousness.

"Everything is going to work out," Sasha says aloud to reassure herself, "We follow the orders."

* * *

Dwight lies on the bed of fortune, which the saviors have managed to find him. It is a miracle that they did not abandon him. The police arrival only added to the chaos, and a few of they arrested a few of the saviors. So far, Dwight awaits his fate. There is a reason why his so-called companion dragged him out of the basement.

Negan carefully sits on the edge of Dwight's bed. After his encounter with Michonne, he can no longer stand without extreme pain. The bitch left him with a limp, and she escaped his claws twice. His muddy irises catch Dwight's lethargic eyes.

Dwight's leg wound was quickly patched in a backroom. The pain almost drives him to loss of consciousness, but he does not have the luxury to sleep. He is the man of the hour and the only one with valuable information on Shane Walsh.

Although he came at the end, Negan has seen enough of what Rick's staged. Now, Negan believes that Shane Walsh is a wounded man, and he has the intention to find him. He has lost many men tonight, and someone has to pay in kind. Blood for blood and fuckery for fuckery, Negan quietly thinks.

"So?" He drawls, and to a drugged and in pain Dwight, the sound of Negan's voice is an annoyance.

Dwight inhales, and he strives to centre his thoughts. He took a bullet for this, and Rick Grimes will have his head if he fails.

"The cops were already crawling around," Dwight swallows, and his tongue is dry from the drug.

He hopes in dilated pupils hide the truth. Rick did not leave a margin of error, and the timing has been a priority. The police arrival would add to the chaos, and no one would pay mind to the actual scene. Later, excuses would explain how he survived.

"I saw that bitch running, and I took off after her and the little sniper…" He pauses so he can recall what he must say to convince Negan.

"Yeah..." Negan agrees, and he had started to follow Michonne and Sasha.

Sasha had left a long-lasting impression, and enough saviors were adorning the floor of the mansion as a proof of his efficiency.

"Is she the one who shot you?" Negan inquires, and his eyes scan Dwight's leg.

"Nah…" Dwight sighs and his mouth feels like sandpaper, "She was too busy dragging Walsh's bitch out of the place."

He remembers to emphasize the relationship between Shane and Michonne. His leg throbs and Dwight has difficulties focusing on what he intends to say. Rick made sure to drill everyone to his mind, and even the pain can't take those words out of his mind.

"So?" Negan asks again with frustration, and he becomes impatient.

His hand creeps close to Dwight's wound. Only the taste of survival ties Dwight's tongue. He can't wait for Rick's plan to come to fruition. With his little stunt, the saviors are now under the police radar.

"I lost the girls in the basement, and I saw the cop." Dwight pursues. "He, a cop." He flippantly adds, "Shane Walsh is a cop."

Dwight and Eugene are the only saviors alive able to identify Rick or Shane Walsh. Negan stares at Dwight with scepticism.

"I was after the girl, Michonne." Dwight presses on the matter, "I recognise him from the last time. He had the police gear, and I was trying to get out."

"A cop," Negan's smile hides the ugliness of his thoughts.

He can hardly argue the truth behind Dwight's claim. Rumours spread in the business, and for long, there were suspicions on the ties between Alexandra and the police. As a respectable mob organisation, having men in the police department was a common thing, but the ASZ completely flew under the radar. Now, Negan could explain it. The alertness of the police on the assault leads to a question.

"On god," Dwight swears, and the truth weights on Negan, "I shot him twice in the leg with my bows." He adds, "I was about to end it when his bastard of partner shot me."

"Which leg?" Negan asks, and he focuses.

A wounded police officer is easier to find than a hiding mobster is. If Walsh is a police officer, it is a principle of honour to take him out of the game. Destroying his empire can't be enough, and he will always find a way to rise again. Negan's mind begins to form a plan.

"Two arrows in the left knee, and one bullet in the left thigh." Dwight delivers without faltering, and he draws a silent deep breath.

Negan stares at Dwight, and with each glance, he attempts to establish if the other man is lying. Negan flexes his finger.

"You look like you're going to shit your pants," He says with a sadistic grin.

Dwight remains composed, and he did not accept to take a bullet for anything. He has his personal grievance with Negan, and he can't wait to take the bastard down. He does not know how Rick found him, but Rick Grimes knew what to say to help him turn on Negan.

"I have shat my pants. It hurts like fucking hell," Dwight answers, and it seems to be the appropriate response.

"A cop," Negan rises from the bed, and he stares at Dwight, "sound like a good reason for him surviving, but we are going to remedy to that."

* * *

Rick wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing, and he confusedly stares at his surroundings. When he tries to rise, his body complains. Every muscle ache and he smells of smoke and blood. Last night slowly returns to his mind. His mob empire burns to the ground. Michonne crying until she lost her sanity, and his heart breaks at the thought of Michonne.

However, Rick must stick to the plan. He rolls to the side, and he notices that they made it to the small summerhouse that he has on the outskirts of Atlanta. Daryl must be around brooding, and Rick grabs his phone. The blinking caller ID makes him sigh, but he has no choice.

"Grimes?" Rick drily says, and he is too exhausted to play his usual game.

"Am I being a nuisance, detective friendly?" The governor's honeyed voice poured through the phone.

Rick takes a minute to remember to wear the mask, and he wants to tell Philip Blake to count his days. However, Rick sighs, and he practices patience.

"Timing his wrong…" Rick sighs, and he makes himself small, "Dixon's body ended up under my jurisdiction, and well a cop is dead…" Rick deadpans, and he is over the farce.

However, he has nothing solid on Philip Blake. Usually, Rick would deal with the situation as brutally as he can, but he is no longer a mobster. Therefore, he has to settle for patience.

"Why was not informed?" Philip's harsh tone makes Rick's blood boil.

Rick draws a deep breath, and he has to manoeuvre. He berated himself into playing dumb for as long as needed. He needs to know what the governor has and what he wants. Rick is not an idealistic fool, and Philip's monologue did not resonate with him. Rick was once the man who left the force to join the mob. Money and power are always motives.

"I was watching Morales back, and I was cleaning Dixon's mess. What fucking time do you expect the call?" The night was too rough on Rick, and his mask of officer friendly slips to show the angry mob boss.

Rick Grimes is no one bitch, and the governor is working his last nerve.

"Easy…" The patronizing tone and the false calm infuriate Rick, but he thinks of the future he wants, "I understand, but we are a team, Rick. It is in that spirit that we need to communicate." Philip says.

Rick wants to laugh, and Philip Blake must believe that Rick's dick jolt at his sight for talking to him as he does to his mistress. Rick draws a deep breath, and he thinks about driving a knife into the man's eye. The thought is soothing.

"Teamwork?" Rick questions and he knows to play his cards, "does not feel much like I am part of the team. I feel like the errand boy and yet…" Rick allows his treat to sink.

Yet, Rick is in a position of power. Philip laughs, and the sound is a materialization of arrogance. Rick waits for a reaction, and so he can accordingly plan. Last night was the biggest bluff he ever attempted, and he might have unexpected repercussions. For ounce, Michonne is going to kill him. The thought had to his frustration.

"And yet…Rick?" Philip plays it safe and he wants to see how heavy are Rick's ball.

The governor wants to know if he is dealing with a fool or if he has on his hand a potential protégé. Morales has become a liability, and Philip hates that. Alexandria is on to him, and he has not done a move to come after Negan.

"And yet, Dixon is dead and I could make Morales take the fall for it. How loyal do you think he is?" Rick sighs, and he delicately chooses his words, "that will link to Anthony's death. I have been working on Anthony's murder and it all ends with the mob. How safe are you, no we are a team, right," Rick corrects, and he has never pretended to be an idiot unless necessary, "how safe are we?"

Philip sucks his teeth, and he likes the way Rick's think. The walls are closing on him, and Philip did not foresee the consequence of Merle's death. With the enemy within, Philip's moves are not as intelligent as he thinks.

"I hear you…" Philip says with begrudging respect.

"Do you? Or I have to be afraid because you have a murder to pin on me." Rick says, and the question is one to create an illusion of power in Philip's head.

The gun used to kill Andrea does not belong to Rick, and when Andrea's body resurfaces, a dead man would have to answer for her death. The gun is Merle's service weapon. Tying loose ends, Rick intends to do so with dedication.

"A team, we are a team. I would prefer to have a conversation in person. Morales would see as we meet soon. Take care, Rick." Philip courteously ends the call.

"Son of a bitch," Rick says with frustration.

Ultimately, Rick rises from the bed. He looks at his leg, and Daryl had someone treat the wound. Rick walks to the attached bathroom, and his reflect looks like death. He washes his face, and he slides in the bathroom.

* * *

Daryl lies on the couch, and he wears a scorning expression. Rick believes that it might have to do with the bow that he had to give to Dwight. However, he has no time to wonder about much.

"Thank Denise for me," Rick says as he grabs his colt python from the table.

He secures it, and he checks his phone as endless call and messages blur the screen. Rick sighs, and the day will never end.

"Aye," Daryl replies between sips of beer.

After a minute, Daryl breaks the silence when Rick is about to leave.

"You're sure about this," Daryl asks, and he knows how it is about to get crazier.

"Look…" Rick sighs, and he is not that eager to leave an entire life behind, "I'm sure I want my family safe." He decides to go with the truth, and it does not require explanation, "You could take over, and I don't ask you to retire with me."

Daryl snorts, and he was never into the mob for personal reasons. His girl was in it, and he found a brother. Now, he has no reason to stick.

"Sasha might want to try that kid thang, and you know…" Daryl replies, and the tension vanishes between the men.

There is no question of loyalty. Rick would not have asked anyone else to shoot him. Rick nods, and he has to handle a major part of the plan.

"Sasha says they needed to change the plan. She is bringing your lady love around." Daryl nonchalantly announces.

Rick curses, and he stares at Daryl waiting for an explanation. Michonne should go to the safe house until he deals with Negan. An easy plan but since when it goes as planned.

"She tried to shoot Tyrese. She wanted to go back to the mansion. She is loyal and that changes a lot from your usual taste in woman…" Daryl says, and Rick does not know how to react.

"I will be back." Rick walks out the door, and he comes back to say more, "keep her safe until I come back."

….

…

….

Tyrese carries an unconscious Michonne out of the car. Daryl leans against the wall. Sasha carelessly throws her rifle, and she runs to him. She presses her lips to him, and her heart can beat at a normal rhythm.

"I'm fine," Daryl groans when she pulls away from him to check if he has any wound. "Made an easy exit,"

Daryl looks at Michonne, and he exchanges a questioning look with his girlfriend.

"I had no choice," Sasha shrugs.

"Rick is going to lose it if his princess has a bruise…" Daryl chuckles, and he opens the door to help Tyrese.

"He should have thought about it before letting her believe that he was dead," Sasha says with frustration.

"Aye, he is going to deal with his mess when he comes back," Daryl replies.

"Where is he?" Sasha asks with growing exasperation. "He better be here when she wakes up."

Tyrese comes out of the summerhouse, and he takes the car key from Sasha.

"Police business," He replies to her question about Rick's whereabouts. "Tying loose hands and making sure that we did not do this for nothing. I have to head to work too." Tyrese begins to head toward the car.

"Ty, give Daryl a ride. I don't think that Michonne wants to see the man who killed the love of her life when she wakes up." Sasha wisely decides, and Michonne has already almost shot a man.

"Keep an eye on her," Daryl reiterates Rick's order.

"That is my job," Sasha leans to kiss her boyfriend

* * *

Rick has finished his third interrogation, and he looks at the glass behind him. In the entire precincts, similar interrogations are happening. Rosita sighs and she exchanges a frustrated look with Rick.

"You want a deal or not?" She asks the suspect.

Rick leans by the wall, and the saviors are more loyal than he expected. However, the man behind the desk is about to break.

"That is fine, and he can rot like the rest of them." Rick opens the door, and he starts to walk out, "Rosita?"

Rosita turns to the suspects, and he is younger than many who sat before him in the room. He might be more gullible.

"Do you know anyone who has been in jail?" Rosita asks, and he nods. "Do you want to be as broken as them when you come out or if you come out?" She sounds soft and carrying.

"No, ma'am." His voice quivers and Rick continues to show his impatience.

"Then you should speak, Brian" she sits down, and she opens her notebook.

"I can't, I can't. I'm good as dead if I speak," the tears cover Brian's face, and he is too young to be part of an organisation.

Although, Negan recruiting children does not come as a surprise to Rick. Rick walks back into the room, and his approach is not soft.

"You're what sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen...?" Rick pushes a cup of coffee toward Brian.

"Twenty," He drains the lukewarm coffee, and the amount of violence he saw today traumatised him.

"So let me sum it up for you. You are already dying, and in jail, you will regret not taking the risk. Your entire life would be lost, and we are going to pile murder charges against you. That was a massacre. No grand jury would be lenient, but if you talk, we can give you a light sentence and put you on witness program." Rick drills the fear in the young man's head, "Someone else will take your deal." He rises from his chair, and he begins to leave with Rosita on his toes.

"Wait…" Bryan hesitates, and he draws a deep breath, "Shane Walsh," he says and it is enough to bring Rick and Rosita back in the room. "Well, he stole Negan's book, and he had the boss girl killed."

"Is she the boss girl?" Rick pulls out the picture of Andrea, and Brian nods.

The rest of the interview is already what Rick told Morgan. Rick resists the need to gloat, and he knows that he is a step close to his freedom. Brian says as much as he knows. Rick leaves Rosita, and he has to supervise more interrogatories. Many men in the savior will have the same story with Brian. …

…

…

"Fucking Walsh," Captain John curses as soon as Rick steps out of the room.

Rick sighs, and he perfectly plays the role of the disappointed friend. He hides his grin, and he has not won. Rick stands by Morgan.

"It could be all wrong, and I know Shane…" Rick stops after a strict glare from Morgan.

Morgan shakes his head, and like the rest of the precinct, he believes Rick to be naïve. Everyone knows of Lori and Shane affair, and Rick continues to pretend. He has kept his potential divorce a secret.

"We can't arrest him upon one confession, but the rest will speak soon." Morgan scratches his head, and he looks at Rick, "If it is not to spy on him at least for his safety, we need an eye on him."

Rick sighs, and he knows the chaos, which a mob war created, limits the police department. The precinct does not have a sufficient number of men. His plan is slowly falling in place.

"I had organized crime division on him, but tonight, they have no man to spare. Williams might be willing to cover." Rick says, and he only needs Morgan's approval.

"Get Williams on it."

* * *

Michonne wakes up with a headache, and she feels nauseous. For a minute, she hopes that what occurred last night was a nightmare. She faces the ceiling until it stops spinning, and it is not the ceiling of their home. It is not the ceiling of the mansion.

She does not know if she is going insane, but she wishes that everything were in her head. She cannot stop thinking about every plan, which they made. Those four children, which they would have, won't exist. Michonne's heart cannot endure the pain.

Michonne struggles to rise, and she knows that she is going mad. She looks around the room, and it smells like Rick. The tears fall from her eyes, and she refuses to allow them to fall. Tentatively, she stands to leave. Michonne has to find Rick. Her legs wobble, and her body has been through more than it can endure.

On her first step, she falters and hits the bedside table. Michonne does not care for the pain in her legs. She does not care that she is feverish. She wants to go back to the mansion and look for Rick.

"Princess," His rich voice fills the room, and Michonne does not dare to look for the source.

She knows that she has gone mad. Michonne straightens her back, and she strives to take another step. The room smells like him, and she hears his voice. Of course, she will find a refuge in a form of insanity as long as she has him back.

"Chonne?" He says, and Michonne sinks in the floor.

She does not want to look in the direction of that voice. Michonne does not want her eyes to meet emptiness. She feels so empty without him. She wants to argue with Rick about smoking around the children. Michonne aspires to have those conversations where her opinion on his cases matters. Michonne wants Rick back in her arm.

"I have to go back," She sighs, and her body is aching.

"Princess," She can't resist longer, and she looks toward the bathroom door.

He looks fresh out of the shower, and Michonne always liked his wet curls. She can't prevent the tears. It is certain that she is insane, but it is all right with her. Michonne sees and listens to Rick. What else can she want? She wants him to hold her.

"I have to get out of here, and I have to bring you back," Michonne replies with all her conviction, and she drags her body up. "You're alive." There is a hint of hysteria in her voice.

She carefully continues to stare at Rick. Her body can't support her, and she unceremoniously sinks in the floor. The parquet is cool against her burning skin. Her headache is potent. The tears follow on their accord.

"I have to get you back," she insists.….

….

….

Rick looks at Michonne, and it transpires that no one loves him with such devotion. Giving up his mobster life no longer feels like a sacrifice. Rick kneels by her side, and his wet hands frame Michonne's burning face.

"Hey," Rick is unsure of what to say, and she stares at him, "I love you, princess." He sounds like a fantasy.

Her fingers press his visage, and she explores his features. She draws a deep breath, and she looks in the quiet wave inhabiting Rick's eyes.

"I'm sorry," The guilt devours Michonne, and she averts her look, "I…" the tears steal her voice.

Rick wipes Michonne's tears, and he hugs her. For a second, she does not believe that she holds his body. His wet muscles do not dampen her shirt, and she is insane. It is fine as long as she gets to see him.

Michonne's lips brush Rick' ones. She steals her breath from his lungs, and she explores their intimacy. Rick closes the distance between their lips, and it feels too real to be a work of her mind. Her heart blooms, and she clings on him. Her nails dig his muscles.

Her body melts into his, and the fabric of her shirt scraps Rick's skin. His teeth scrape her neck as if he wants to mark her skin to celebrate his life.

Rick' muscles ache for holding Michonne too tightly. Rick does not know how else he should hold whom he almost lost. She holds him with the same desperation. They kiss with a hunger for life, and it is passionate. They kiss, they bite, and they breathe.

Michonne eagerly touches his skin, and she watches his reaction to her. The goosebumps under her fingertips. The red trail, which appears after the caresses of her nails, fascinates Michonne. She welcomes his weight on her.

They continue to kiss until she can't deny that he is alive. Her head rests on Rick's bare wet chest, and for a minute, they exist in a bubble. They both know that she is going to kill him, but it can wait until tomorrow. Therefore, they continue to make out like euphoric teenagers.

His sweet weight crushes her, and there is an urgency. Rick does not practice his usual care with Michonne's body. She does not want him to be gentle, and she undoes her belt. They twist to drag her pants down. The moment is as fiery as their first time.

After a moment of heightened emotion, they catch their breaths. The cool parquet against her back is uncomfortable. Michonne kicks her pants. Rick eagerly drags her panties lower. They continue to kiss each other with consuming passion. When his hard member grazes her cunt, Michonne arcs into him. When his fingers tease her entrance, she moans in his ear.

Michonne's hand caresses Rick's manhood, and her teeth sink into his skin. She kisses his neck, and she is eager for his touch. She wants him buried in her, and her waist thrust on his fingers to emphasize her needs. Rick still coerces an orgasm from her, and she comes undone. Michonne gazes into Rick's eyes, and he needs her with the same desperation. They almost lost each other.

He is rough, and she would not want it any other way. She wants a reminder that his heart continues to beat. She has not lost him in that mansion. Rick Grimes is in her arms, and he is making love to her in the most sensual form.

Rick's fingers burrow into her thighs, and Michonne will have bruises tomorrow.

He slams in her sweet core with abandon. Michonne clings on his shoulder. Rick's teeth have marked every surface of her neck. His tongue has worshipped her collarbone. Michonne's tongue has tasted the salt of Rick's skin. She does not know if they are fucking or making love. Michonne only knows that Rick Grimes is alive, and she is alive too.

She feels her orgasm intensify, and she forces him to slow down. She kisses Rick with fierceness, and her hand closes around his dick. She adds to the friction. Her determined look pleads with him for abandon, and they should fall from the edges together. La petite mort swallows their bodies. Their orgasms cut through the muscle of their bodies. Rick rolls on the side, and they both stare at the ceiling. Michonne crawls to Rick, and she rests her head on his chest. She needs to hear his heartbeat.

For an hour, they kiss and caress each other. The anger will wait for tomorrow. However, Michonne needs an answer to a haunting question.

"Why?" She breathes the words.

Rick lifts her chin, and so she looks in his eyes. Like their first time, Michonne faces the mob boss, and she has grown comfortable around him. She loves every part of Rick Grimes.

"I dug my grave, and I needed a body to fill it." He kisses Michonne's forehead

* * *

His hand shakes, and his steps are hesitant. Everywhere that he looks, he sees accusations. They are going to uncover the truth. He can't disobey Negan's order. He draws a deep breath, and he climbs the floor.

Terrified, he passes a tall black man, and he keeps his eyes on his target. Why does everyone look at him? It is in his head, and he should stop panicking. His hands are sweating, and he wants to vomit. The nurses suspiciously look at him. No, they don't care for his antics at this godforsaken hour.

He is closer to the room, and he thinks that is the number they gave to him. One thousand twenty-nine is the number of the room, and he hears voices. The man, who he came to murder, is not alone. There is a woman, and she sounds angry.

"Look, Rick is not himself. That bitch... The neighbour…" He does not care for what she has to say.

He gauchely pulls the revolver from his waistline. He pushes the door, and they don't care for him. They believe that he is a nurse. He wears a uniform.

"Shane Walsh…" His voice quivers, and he has forgotten what Negan's message was, "Negan says to enjoy hell while he fucks the sweet cunt of your Michonne." He stutters and he has never done a hit.

"What the fuck…" Shane never finishes his sentence while five bullets hit him in the chest.

His hands are shaking, and the woman cowers to the side. She raises her hands. He has never done this before, and he is afraid. He is gauche, and she startles him. She screams and tries to run. He does recall that he pressed the trigger, but he did shoot. She falls to the ground, and he did not notice that he aimed at the head. Her brown hair spreads on the floor. He has to get out, but he curiously glances at the man that he killed

"Fuck…" He is in the wrong room, and this is not the man, who pushed the teeth of a fork in his hand.

Eugene panics, and he remembers the number of the room. "1129 agent and Shane Walsh," he repeats.

How many police officers have two arrows shot in their left knee and a gunshot wound on the left thigh? Negan informant at the police gave this room number. He has no time to think, and Eugene begins to run. He does not make it far from the room.

"Freeze," The tall black man says, and he has a gun, "Atlanta PD."

Eugene panics, and he attempts to continue to run. When the bullet hits his leg, he cries in pain, and he raises his gun to defend himself. Another shot crash in his shoulder. He drops the gun.

"Central," The Black man say, "Detective Williams," Eugene hears.

"We have two victims, and the suspect is in custody." Tyrese announces, and he pursues, "The victims potentially are Detective Shane Walsh and missus Lori Grimes. Please, send homicide."


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks for the reviews**

 **I don't own the walking dead**

 **Yes , the criminology behind a scandal and odd Mondays are next**

 **Please reviews**

* * *

 **Chapter XVI: Sunday noisy silence**

* * *

An odd quietness has befallen in the room. There is the exhaustion, and it goes beyond the physical asthenia. Michonne clings on Rick, and she feels as if anything can snatch him from her hands. Therefore, her fingers sink in his skin, and her nails dig on his flesh. She does not want to lose him.

"I love you…" Michonne whispers, and she is uncertain if Rick is awake.

However, she needs to voice how she feels. It has become obvious that she loves him beyond what she can explain. Hours after finding out that Rick is alive, Michonne continues to fear that everything is a figment of her imagination. The world might come crashing at her feet. She needs to touch him to be certain that he is bleeding flesh.

She raises her head to look at Rick, and the depth of his eyes is impressive. Michonne sighs, and she nests her head in Rick's chest. She kisses the notch between his clavicles. His heartbeats are her only assurance that yesterday was a long nightmare.

"You know…" Michonne struggles to find the right words, "I would have…" she cannot picture how destroyed she would have felt if she had lost Rick.

Rick tightens his hug around Michonne, and he appears to be in tune with each of her thoughts. He kisses Michonne's forehead, and he lacks the words to tell her what he wants. He holds her with a certain desperation.

"You're going to be mad at me…" Rick says between chuckles.

Michonne curiously looks at him, and she is already mad at him. However, her anger is taking time to surface. She cocks an eyebrow, and she waits for Rick to expand on the reason why she is going to be mad at him.

"A bit beneath my princess…" He adds with an amused smile, and there is fondness in the way, which he says a nickname initially meant to slight Michonne, "I got the watch from my granddad, and I never removed it before today." Rick says as he drags himself out of the bed.

"Hmmm…" Michonne hears from a distant ear, and she is slowly beginning to feel the effect of the last day.

Michonne assumes that it is nothing but nostalgia because he closely faced death. Rick's words are sadly lost on her exhausted mind.

"Probably the most precious thing, which I own… princess," Rick calls out for Michonne when he notices that she is not looking at him, "Hey, I know it is shitty… but can you give me a minute of your time?" Rick stutters, and it suffices to draw Michonne's attention.

"I was…listening… oh" Michonne draws a deep breath.

She has a minute of confusion, and she does not understand why Rick is on his knees. She watches him removes the watch, and he raises it toward her as if it is a ring with the biggest diamond. Although, the watch with the overused leather bracelet holds more sentimental value than anything, which Rick can offer her, could. A gift from his grandfather, who was a small-town sheriff and the man who inspired him means a piece of his soul, which remained pure. The sweet boy who clung at that watch to remind himself to be a good man has long disappeared, but Rick kept the watch and fondly wore it. In all, that young good man is not completely buried under the mobster, and Michonne has a way to keep him alive.

"Yeah… but I need you to look at me for this thang to go smooth, princess," Rick's cockiness resurfaces, but it is hard-earned pride, "Michonne Grimes?" Rick says with a teasing grin and enough malice not to say the name of the ex-husband, who led them on each other path.

Mike Anthony would forever be on Rick Grimes' shitlist, but Michonne softens the blow.

"That's a proposal?" Michonne cocks an eyebrow, and her entire expression reveals what she wants to conceal.

"That's a yes?" Rick replies with a rhetorical question.

Michonne looks at him, and her smile is the answer.

"Nope that is a work on your aesthetic, and then I might consider, Grimes "Michonne clarifies, but she is already reaching for the watch.

Rick removes the watch from Michonne's reach. He stands, and she looks at him more confused than before his speech. He puts back the watch on his wrist.

"Rick?" Michonne asks with a slight pout, "What are you doing?" She yelps when Rick suddenly lifts her from the bed.

Rick kisses Michonne's stomach, and she closes her leg around his waist. She dips her head to kiss Rick. It is slow and passionate. Bodies are delicately melting into each other. She tightens her hold on Rick's shoulder.

"So…" He smiles, and she cannot resist returning the smile. "You want a big ring…" Rick asks already knowing the answer.

"Nope…" Michonne kisses Rick's nose, "I want the heartfelt declaration, and I will take the watch."

Rick chuckles, and he carefully puts Michonne down. He removes his watch and kneels. He extends his watch toward Michonne, and she has the most beautiful smile.

"Michonne Barnes…" He smirks with mischievousness, "only you can force me to go all poetic and shit." He chuckles, and Michonne endearingly looks at Rick as he struggles with words. "So…princess…It's no secret that I'm ridiculously in love with you. Deeply, hopelessly, and luckily in love with you, and I don't need a near-death experience to confirm it. You have already found the good man in me. You should make an honest man out of me too. Will you marry me? By me, I mean Rick Grimes retired mobster and very much Atlanta PD homicide detective." Rick finishes.

"Michonne Grimes… do I like how it sounds?" Michonne jokes, "Yes…" She leans and kisses Rick.

* * *

Rick rolls on the side, and a sheer coat of sweat covers his muscles. He passionately steals a kiss from Michonne, and he grabs his vibrating phone. He quickly sits up, and he begins to leave the bed.

"Just one night…" Michonne sighs and she does not want to share him with the craziness outside after getting him back.

Rick presses a quick kiss on the corner of Michonne's lips, and he would like to stay between her legs forever. However, the moment is crucial.

"An entire life…I promise," Rick replies, and he pushes a lock behind her ear. "I'm earning that forever thang, and you will have to put up with this fuckery a bit longer." He adds with a comforting tone.

Michonne sits, and she sighs with growing exhaustion at the never-ending game. The last two days have drained her. She wants nothing but to stay in Rick's arms.

" I know…but I selfishly want you to lay in bed with me doing nothing." She begins to leave the bed, "sometimes, it feels odd how much I love you. A body in a trunk instead of flowers, the arrangement, and I'm going to be missus Grimes. It's every girl's fairytale." Michonne adds with the irony coating to the last sentence.

"Only the best for my princess," Rick teases, but he means the words. "I'm such a pussy when it comes to my princess. Romantic and all the other thang and stuff. "

"Never stop calling me that," Michonne laughs, and she picks a towel, "join me when you finish." She walks to the bathroom while Rick picks his call.

* * *

"When?" Rick asks after listening to Dwight talking about Negan taking the bait, "when does he plan to go after Shane?"

The sound of water in the bathroom covers the conversation. Rick moves out of the bed, and he pushes the bathroom door. Michonne turns to look at him, and she smiles. Rick has a hard time believing his luck.

"Tonight," Dwight's whispered answer comes from the other side of the phone. "Gave the order to Eugene." He pursues.

The name jolts Rick's memories, and the frustration begins to surface. Nothing comes easy, and Rick has begun to accept that his plans might be unsuccessful over small details.

"Eugene?" Rick asks for clarity, "sweaty, stuttering mess. The guy, who I met to get the info on that blonde bitch." The question is rhetorical.

"Yeah…" Dwight replies, "Negan has someone cleaning after him." He adds when he senses Rick's panic.

Rick draws a deep breath, and his eyes befall on Michonne's wet silhouette. His hand comes to his hardening manhood, and he needs the rush of sensation. Nothing keeps his mind focus as much as sex. Rick cannot give in to panic. He sucks his teeth, and the situation is what he so easily calls a 'fuckery'

"Fuck…fucks… that piece of shit." Rick curses, and he did not think that Negan would want to clean his mess before it implicates the saviors. "Dwight, I will need you to keep Eugene alive." He orders with a certain hesitation, and he is betting on his future on nothing of substance.

"Alright… Rick, you're asking me a lot." Dwight complains, and he knows how precarious his situation is. "Negan having Eugene killed helped everyone."

Rick sighs, and he is aware of the danger for Dwight. The man is not a friend like Daryl, but he is loyal. Rick Grimes values loyalty, and so far Dwight has never given to Rick a reason to doubt him.

"I know, and you're giving me a lot. I will have your back, and maybe, it is time you get something out of the association." Rick proposes, and his fairness has always earned him loyalty.

"Fucking Rick Grimes…" Dwight sighs, but it is a tacit agreement, "Why do you need Eugene alive?" He cannot grasp why Rick would want anyone able to identify him to live. "He knows you…"

"Don't worry about it. Just go after the cleaner and lay low after tonight. I'm fucking giving you Atlanta in exchange of your service." Rick replies, and he has yet to draw a plan to rectify the situation, which has emerged.

"Alright…" Dwight agrees, and he carefully drags himself up. "I will keep you updated on Eugene's move."

"Good…" Rick replies, and he ends the call.

* * *

"More problem?" Michonne asks with a knowing look.

Rick does not answer, and he does not want to think about anything but Michonne. He slides in the shower, and the droplets of hot water hit his skin. Rick runs his knuckles on Michonne's stomach. He spreads his fingers over her glistening skin, and he slowly pushes her against the wall.

"Thinking of a solution…" Rick drawls, and he leans to place his lips on the curve of Michonne's neck. "Hmmm…" his tongue tastes her soft skin.

Michonne's nails dig in Rick's shoulders, and she feels the weight of his body pressed her against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall.

"Tell me..." Michonne whispers in the hollow of his ear, and she does not want the morning experience to repeat itself.

Rick pulls his lips away from Michonne's neck, and his arm circles her waist. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his narrow hips. Rick's lips brush Michonne's jaws, and his teeth graze her shivering skin.

"I need three people dead, but in an order, which is convenient for me…" Rick calmly announces, and Michonne nods so he can continue while her thumbs draw intricate patterns against his five o'clock shadow. She threads her fingers in his curls.

"Have them kill each other," Michonne suggests, and Rick bites her bottom lip.

"They will, and it's not the issue. I need one alive long enough to justify killing the other, but the asshole might snitch on me." Rick replies, and he loves discussing murder and other occupational duty with Michonne.

Michonne frames Rick's face and she kisses him. Her kiss is warm, and there is depth to her touch. Rick breathes her sweet scent, and he begins to part her legs.

"Make him need you. If he needs you, he is going to act accordingly." Michonne says with the strong knowledge of experience. "Then kill him once he is of no use. He might be more useful dead."

"It's a fucking shame that I'm retiring." Rick chuckles, and he looks at Michonne with awe, "Your mind is brilliant." He kisses her, and he aligns his manhood with her wet core.

"I haven't told you anything you did not think of while you were having your little phone call." Michonne knowingly replies, and Rick smirks, "Now if you could just fuck me and stop thinking of murder while doing it, I will be a happy woman." She adds while she wraps her hand around Rick's dick, and she begins to guide him inside her pussy.

"I like to have the opinion of my future wife. She is brilliant." Rick genuinely answers, and he obeys to Michonne's demand.

He begins to thrust shallowly, and Michonne wants more of him. She digs her heels in his hips, and she attempts to push him forward.

"What was it again, princess?" Rick murmurs against the crook of Michonne's neck. "When you want, but how I like it," He recalls the term of the arrangement, which they draw. "I like to make you ache for sweet release." He pushes his manhood an inch deeper, and her cunt eagerly grips around his dick.

"More…" Michonne moans and Rick's firm hold on her waist stops her from thrusting to take all of him. "Please…" she pants with teeth sinking in his shoulder.

"I like to hear your proud self beg for it." He whispers against her hot skin after a shallow thrust, and Michonne clings to Rick in need of more friction.

Her back grazes the tiles wall, and it scraps her skin every time Rick's dick sheaths itself deeper in her cunt. The water from the shower sneaks between their skins. Her nails sink in Rick's muscles to the point of leaving unfading scars.

"Rick…deeper… please." Michonne cries with wants when he begins a teasing rhythm.

"Hun…Hun." Rick withdraws his length, and Michonne regrets the fullness, "If you want to be such a bad girl, you can learn to withhold your orgasm." He presses a soft kiss to her shoulder, and his tongue draws the length of her collarbone, "or you can be a good girl, and let me fuck you the way, which you need it." Rick drawls while the head of his cock grazes the lips of Michonne's cunt.

"So…" Rick sheaths his cock until Michonne's cunt swallows his entire length.

She draws a deep breath, and it does not return the comfort of her respiratory effort. She presses her lips to Rick's one, and with each thrust, her moans die on Rick's lip.

"I like to give you what your body needs, and not what you want." Rick slowly withdraws, and he toys with her pleasures.

The restraint is unbearable and sickly sweet. Michonne twists her fingers around his neck, and her nails scrap his nape.

"What you need now it's a good slow fuck while you come on my dick again and again." Rick slams into Michonne's sweet core, and she cries at the assault of her pleasure, "Tell me what you need, princess." Rick licks Michonne's earlobe, and he watches her ride out her orgasm.

"To be a good girl." She answers in a haze, and Rick continues to thrust deeper.

He consumes her orgasm with the built-up of another orgasm. Michonne's legs tremble and her teeth sink in the tender curve of his neck.

"I love you," Michonne breathes the words, and she looks into the clouded blue of Rick's eyes.

"I'm a lucky asshole." Rick kisses Michonne.

* * *

He is hard to miss, and he looks overly terrified. Tyrese draws a deep breath, and he looks at his phone to confirm Rick's order. Tyrese keeps a fair distance from the savior. Rick has made it clear to follow the plan. Tyrese looks at Shane's room, and Lori is visible through the curtain.

 **Lori has not left.** He quickly sends to Rick.

 **Fuck…Fuck…F…** Tyrese does not get to finish reading, and his phone begins to ring.

The ringtone suffices to scare the savior. Eugene, if he remembers right, the scared man's name is Eugene. Eugene begins to walk faster toward Shane's room.

"Fucking get her out of there," Rick immediately spits when Tyrese picks up the phone.

Tyrese looks at Eugene as he pushes open the door of Shane's room. Following Rick's order would be foolishness.

"Tyrese?" Rick shouts, and Tyrese leans against the wall.

He understands that Rick's sense of justice, which has not completely disappeared through the years in the business, blinds him. However, Tyrese has a role to play as Rick's right hand. When the decision is too hard to carry, Tyrese takes them on Rick's behalf.

"Fucking get Lori out of there," Rick insists, and he is only thinking about Carl.

Rick does not want to carry that news, and he does not want Carl's heart crushed beyond repair.

"Ty…" Rick halts mid words, and the gunshots are unmistakable.

Rick's heart drops, and he immediately sinks in his knees. His legs fail to carry him, and Rick only thinks about Carl. Guilt immediately assaults him. He passes his hands in his hair.

"Fuck…fuck …fuck." Rick has no way to express anger on behalf of Carl, and he has a moment of fear thinking of facing his son. "Carl?" He has to voice his doubt.

"I have to get the work done," Tyrese says in a tone, which is apologetic.

…

..

…

"Freeze," Tyrese says, and he has a gun pointed at Eugene, "Atlanta PD." He calmly adds.

Rick's previous orders are clear. Now, Tyrese pushes out the previous minute. He lowers the safety, and he attempts to focus on clean shots.

Eugene panics, and he attempts to continue to run. When the bullet hits his leg, he cries in pain, and he raises his gun to defend himself. Another shot crash in his shoulder. He drops the gun. However, Tyrese's gun continues to point in his direction.

Rick has made it clear that Eugene has to remain in the hospital. Eugene knows Rick's face, and it could end everything.

"Central," Tyrese says, "Detective Williams," Eugene hears.

"We have two victims, and the suspect is in custody." Tyrese announces, and he pursues, "The victims potentially are Detective Shane Walsh and missus Lori Grimes. Please, send homicide." Tyrese adds. "The suspect has managed to attempt an escape. I have shot him four times to immobilize him. "

Eugene attempts to crawl away, and he has heard Tyrese speak clearly. So far, he has shot him two times, and Eugene begins to panic. Tyrese shoots Eugene in the back, and he carefully aims for flesh.

"Negan's order and nothing personal," Tyrese announces, and he shoots for the fourth time.

His last words accompany Eugene has he bleeds to unconsciousness.

* * *

The police flashing lights illuminate the sky with blue and red. The sirens are audible miles away. Rick parks his car by the other police cars, and he begins to rush toward the hospital entrance.

Rick does not make it to the door, and arms immediately halt him. He looks up to recognise one of the officers below him. Rick attempts to move out of the hold, but it tightens.

"Detective Grimes, you can't." He says while he attempts to drag Rick away from the actual chaos.

Frustrated and beyond furious, Rick strikes the officer with his elbow. It's sufficiently powerful to cause a jerk reaction and to break the officer's hold around Rick.

"Fucking move…" Rick breathlessly says, and he draws his gun.

The ruckus becomes bigger, and more officers come to surround Rick. Between the sirens and the officer shouting at Rick to calm down, the scene is chaotic.

"Let him pass," Morgan's voice rise above every noise, and the situation begins to deescalate.

Rosita comes out of the hospital, and she walks up to Rick. She leans to whisper words in his ears. Rick does not know what infuriates him the most between her compassion and the fact that he would have to muster such emotions while talking to Carl. For once, he would have to sit and pretend with his son. The guilt suddenly feels unbearable.

"I don't want you to see this," She softly says, and she looks at Rick with an expression of pity, which infuriates him.

"Fuck you…" Rick deadpans, and he begins to walk toward the hospital.

He returns his gun to its holder, and he passes each officer on his path without a second look. Morgan reaches for his shoulders, and he holds him back.

"I will take you off the case if it is too much," Morgan says with a stoic tone, and to Rick, it is grounding. "But if you think that you can hold it in, I'm all for giving you the resource, which you want." He finishes, and there is the touch of emotion, which Rick does not want to face.

"Williams?" Rick quietly asks.

…

…

…

Rick does not care for who is looking, and he does not make it to Shane's room when he comes across Tyrese. He does not say much, and thinking is beyond him. Rick tackles Tyrese, and he kicks his knees with all his force to get Tyrese on the ground.

"I fucking gave you an order." Rick drawls on top of Tyrese, and his poorly closed fist collide with Tyrese's jaw.

Rick's auricular does not stand the impact, and it breaks. However, he appears to be immune to the pain. Those are years of a constructed personality thrown to the window, and Rick does not care. He can only think about Carl. What is he going to say to his son?

"Grimes…Grimes?" Rick hears the voices beginning to fill the hospital corridor.

"Fucking calm down…" Tyrese grunts and he barely attempts to defend himself.

He grabs Rick's fist, and he struggles to inverse the situation. He kicks hard enough to shove Rick away from him, and he rushes to immobilize him on the floor.

"Go on and act crazy. Risk everything, which you want with Michonne…" Tyrese whispers and the words have the expected effect, "Give up everything, Michonne, Andre, and Carl for Lori."

"Carl…" Rick grunts under the pressure of Tyrese's weights. "Carl…"

Tyrese releases Rick with the certainty that nothing will follow. He sits by Rick, and he raises his hands to stop the other officer.

"We good." Tyrese announces, "Give him room to breathe and a minute." He adds while the eyes continue to stare.

For a long minute, there is nothing but silence. Rick wipes the blood off his knuckles, and he flexes his numb fingers.

"Everybody back to work..." Rick barks, and he rises from the floor, "the fucking show is over." He groans, and he extends his hands for Tyrese to take.

Tyrese stares at Rick, and he does not hesitate to take the hand. There is a tacit agreement, which Tyrese feels the need to verbalize.

"You good…" Tyrese waits for Rick to speak up.

"Yeah…thanks. I mean for everything." Rick says as he begins to head toward Shane's hospital room. "And the shooter."

"Operating room..." Tyrese replies as he understands that Rick has his head back to the game. "He tried to run, and I shot him four times. He is going to stay in this hospital for a few days."

"Good, I will handle it from here." Rick replies, "No one sees him before I do. No one talks to him before I do."

"Espinosa?" Rick calls for Rosita with irritation.

Rosita draws a deep breath, and she moves toward Rick. He delicately places his hand on her shoulder, and he drags her away from the crowd of officers.

"I want none of the nurses from this hospital attending the suspects." Rick announces between whispers, and he can finally put his plan to execution, "clearly, we can't trust no one if Shane's information leaked. I would select a batch from the police nurses to attend him." He adds with a tone, which discourages argument.

Rosita has no choice but to nod. Rick addresses a meaningful look to Tyrese, and enough is exchange in that quiet look.

"Espinosa, pick a team to watch over the suspect…" Rick orders, "You will be leading."

Rosita's eyes widen, and she quickly wants to argue about the function, which Rick gave her. She does not want to be away from the main action. She wants to continue her work on the homicide, and she has made some progress.

"I would rather work on the investigation with you," Rosita politely replies.

Rick throws an irritated look at her, and he could care less about the usual game of pretence. He grabs her by the hand, and he drags her away from prying eyes and ears.

…

…

…

Rick drags Rosita in an empty room, and he needs a minute to reconcile his thought with reality. He needs to touch emotions, which he is unable to feel in regards to Lori or Shane. He has come close to the fear and panic, which follow the loss of the loved one. He remembers his heart missing beats while the sirens sang away in front of Michonne's building.

Only a few days ago, he had to save Michonne from Negan's hand. These thoughts suffice to leave a panting mess behind, and Rick finds in him the ability to play a game of manipulation.

"Shane is dead," He quietly breathes the words, "a ten years partner. From the academy to the force, he was my partner." Rick emphasises, and the canvas of emotions on his face drives his points.

"Rick…" Rosita says with a form of anxiety.

"Negan killed him, and that suspect is the only one who can help us get justice." Rick feigns the determination, and he knows what buttons to press, "I don't trust anyone but you. Fuck…I can't even tell you if Shane was dirty or not. I need someone who I can trust to make sure that the person, who killed my wife and my best friend, live to tell us who sent him. Can you do that? Or should I …" He wipes the tears, which speak for no emotions.

"I have your back," Rosita replies with conviction.

Rick Grimes is a man who she admires, and she feels invested in a mission. She squeezes Rick's arm, and there is a look, which Rick easily recognises. He promises himself to use Rosita's infatuation only if the need comes to be. Rick takes the needed distancing step. Rosita straightens.

"And about the investigation and Shane, I don't want to give you false hope," she hesitates, and she does not want to speak until she has every fact, " Look, I know that lady…The Anthony widow has no reason to lie but…" Rosita stops and she cannot expand on what to say. "Listen, I'm looking into the case, and she is the catalyst for everything. I think Shane saw the same thing. Everything feels too perfect." She finishes, and her eyes convey that similar message.

Rick draws a deep breath, and it would be so easy to give in to the panic. Everything feels too perfect. Staged is the word, which Rosita fails to say. He looks at her, and she is almost begging for his approval. The human mind is twisted and sick. Rick is only facing one of its perversion. He puts his hands on Rosita's shoulders, and his thumbs graze her skin.

"Well done," He quietly says, "You might have something," Rick encourages, "I will look into it, and why do you not have Michonne brought in for interrogation." He finishes.

"Michonne?" Rosita asks, and she picks on the familiarity.

It is intentional, and Rick's mind is overloading. He removes his hands from Rosita's shoulders, and the warmth, which he offered her, abruptly disappears. Rick frowns, and he hesitates. Details but sufficient to create a consuming doubt. Rosita is right, and Rick would not have noticed the mistake without her. It is too perfect.

"That's her name," He replies," You can look into her, and see what you can find," Rick adds.

"I will, and don't worry about the suspect," Rosita adds, and she watches as Rick begins to walk away from her, "Rick?" She calls.

Rick blinks, and she has never called him anything but Grimes. He can see the thread, and Lori's death appears to open paths, which he never thought.

"You and Shane were childhood best friend, and you never did anything without the other. It must be hard to think…" She does not expand, and Rosita holds on the thought.

"Yeah…" Rick replies, and he knows that she would begin to dig.

* * *

The scene is not as horrid as what he has seen or done. Rick draws a deep breath, and all eyes are on him. The reaction is one, which must be perfect, and his eyes fall on Lori's dead body. The white sheet slightly pushed away from her small frame.

Emptiness and the feeling is nothing, which comes as a surprise. Playing the inconsolable widow is beneath Rick, and so he does not feign. He remains a concerned father, and it could pass for sadness and desperation in regards to Lori's death.

"Take the bodies to the coronary, and they are top priorities." Rick barks the orders, "We're interrogating all the saviors that we have in custody until they speak. Why Walsh of all people? Dig as far as you can," He adds with the perfect knowledge that his skeleton lays by Shane's corpse.

The unexpected and the detail, Rick looks at Lori's body as the forensic team carries it away. Now, the investigation for her murder threatens his well-thought plan. No one in the room has had the thought but Rick. However, if he thinks of it, someone else might. The divorce paper, he cannot withdraw them. Rosita is right. Everything sounds perfect. People love pocking at perfection, and they will come lurking.

"Espinosa?" Rick calls Rosita, and the decision happens in a rush.

A gamble and a poorly thought one, Rick places his hand on Rosita's shoulder. His touch is warm, and it almost feels as if he goes for her support. She drags him in a hug, which he returns.

"I'm here if you need help." She whispers in his ear, and her breath is a warm caress by his neck.

Rick digs his fingers in her shoulders, and he takes it all. He pulls away when Rosita has given more than she is aware of expressing.

"Thanks, I will need a friend now." Rick throws in a way that carries lies, which mimics the truth.

He needs a pawn, and she is perfect. Shane's guiltiness is no longer questionable. However, guiltiness so easily expends. To be innocent, one must stand trial.

"More than ever I need you to look into Shane's relationship with the saviours and Anthony's widow." Rick says, and he looks into Rosita's eyes, "You might be onto something."

Rosita draws a deep breath. She looks at Rick, and she feels compelled to share.

"Michonne, you called her by her first name." She points out, "She is beautiful… I know the timing, but it just came to me that you were eating in her hand during the interrogation. I heard you and Walsh shared… Not time." Rosita manages to retrieve her tact.

"Keep me posted…" Rick leaves, and he is moving blindly for the moment.

* * *

"I made you the catalyst of a mob war. At least, I allowed Espinosa to run with the idea." Rick announces as he walks into the room.

Michonne raises her head to look at Rick, and she does not like what she sees. She drops the clothes, which she was packing.

"The bitch did not like me much if I remember right. What does she believe?" Michonne indulges Rick, and she closes the bag.

"She has not drawn it yet, but she will have several proofs that might let her think that Shane was under your charm," Rick replies, and he sits on the bed.

Michonne stands in front of Rick, and she slides her fingers in Rick's hair. Rick rests his head against Michonne's abdomen.

"I can't wait to see it full of life." He sighs, and he presses a tender kiss against the fabric of her shirt. "I will do right by this child. Not the mess, I pulled with Carl. I'm going to be the perfect father. I swear." Rick finishes with conviction.

"Hmmm…" Michonne replies without a commitment, "Let not rush on the matter. I think Carl and Andre will need the same commitment." She continues with uttermost seriousness, "What happened tonight?"

"I planned Shane's death, and Lori was collateral damage." Rick announces, and there is a bitter chuckle, "hard price to pay for a dick."

Michonne looks at him, and it ends his bitter laugh. Her fingers delicately part his hair. She kisses his forehead.

"I could not tell Andre…" Michonne easily knows what Rick wants to know, "He did not know much of Mike. He was not a present father figure. I think I will tell him later when he can understand or when he has only known one father and could care less about mike." She says pointedly.

Her thumb caresses his chin, and Michonne feels as if there is a need to ask. She slightly tilts Rick's head, and so he can look in her eyes. Michonne does not want Rick to miss the sincerity of her words.

"I truly think that you're a great dad, and I want you to be Carl and Andre's dad. I know for sure they both want you to be that wonderful dad. So…" She searches her pocket from anything symbolic, and she finds one of Andre's superhero pins, "Rick Grimes, would you like to be a father to my son? " She places the small pin in Rick's hand.

He would not dream to reject the proposal, and for all Rick cares, Andre is his son. He carefully clutches the pin in his hand, and he pulls Michonne on his laps.

"I don't know how I'm going to tell Carl." He draws a deep breath of Michonne's perfume, and he looks at her. "I got his mom killed, and I made promises to Carl," Rick emphasises. "What I'm going to tell him?"

"The truth," Michonne simply replies, and she decides to clarify. "The truth is that you love him, and you're going to be there every step of the way until losing Lori feels like a dull ache. You're going to have the common sense to understand that she died because she over and over chose a hard dick over her son and her family."

"I don't think Carl need to hear that little bit," Rick teases with a smirk.

"No he doesn't, but you did. I'm glad you heard me loud and clear." Michonne replies and she presses her lips to Rick's one.

Rick basks in Michonne's delectable taste, and he kisses her with fervour. There is the way, which his fingers cling to her shirt. She easily understands that he needs her beyond what he cares to express.

"I'm going to be right beside you to raise him," Michonne reassures Rick," and we make a good team. We can only make a good parent." She adds with much faith.

Rick looks at Michonne, and she appears to know always the appropriate words. He kisses her with warmth, and he sighs against her lips.

"I kind of need to be with our children tonight," Rick whispers, and he looks at the bag, which Michonne was packing. "Thank you…"

* * *

The ring of Rick's phone often disturbs the quietness. He does not pick because it is an umpteenth call to console him of a loss, which he does not feel. He looks on the other side, and Michonne is fast asleep.

Rick's eyes travel between Michonne and the road. The silhouette of the old farm poorly fleshed out in the night becomes bigger. Rick has not seen his childhood home in years. He left the place a pure soul, and he is far from the young man, who left the nest.

"Princess," Rick quietly calls Michonne, and his thumb caresses her cheek.

Michonne groans and she has not slept in days. It takes a minute to break out of her slumber. She wipes her eyes to adjust her blurry vision.

"We here?" Michonne asks between yawns.

Rick nods, and he stops the car. He quickly comes out to help Michonne. Suddenly a wave of anxiety invades him, and he throws an exhausted look at Michonne. She slides her fingers between Rick's one, and she squeezes his hand to prompt him forward.

"Remember, I'm here. Andre is here too, and Carl only needs the truth from you." She reiterates her previous opinion.

Michonne leans to kiss Rick's cheek, and she begins to move forward to shake Rick out of his fears. He blindly follows her, and it feels like something, which he can do his entire life.

…

…

…

Rick and Michonne find the farm in quietness and the sounds from the television break over the snoring. Rick moves toward the living room. His paranoid nature makes him stand in front of Michonne.

He looks around, and the scene is so familiar. Rick's dad spread over the couch, and the television is on a rerun of a football game.

"Dad?" Rick calls as he fully enters the room.

"Hmmm… Juliette" Rick's dad groans and he abruptly opens his eyes, "What?"

Rick chuckles, and Michonne stares at a laughing Rick.

"Dad, it's Richard." Rick clarifies, and he moves to stand in front of his dad.

"Oh Richard, you scared me…" His father replies and he turns to take look behind him, "I thought it was your mama coming to shout about the TV"

Michonne laughs, and she cannot help it. She hears the warmth and the love in the voice of Rick's father. Her laugh makes her noticeable, and Rick's father turned to look at her. He immediately smiles at the sight of Michonne.

"Andre's mother…" He says matter of factly, "The laugh is the same." He adds to clarify how he easily concluded.

"Michonne Anthony," she introduces herself as she carefully steps in the room, and she extends her hand to greet him.

"Carlton Grimes senior, but everyone I like can call me Grandpa Carl." He takes Michonne's hand, and his eyes immediately travel to his father's watch. "Nice watch, and now I owe Juliette twenty dollars."

Michonne blushes and she puts her hand behind her back. Rick stares with slight confusion. He recognises the mischief in his father's eyes.

"What did you bet on this time?" Rick says well aware that his parents have a strange habit.

"If you had a secret family, Juliette swore Andre was your son. I guess she was right. "He nonchalantly says.

Michonne understandably laughs, and she does not know how else to react.

"Dad, I don't have a secret family." Rick replies, "and…" He does not know how to pursue him and Michonne.

"I'm under police protection, and detective Grimes is taking it seriously. Although Andre adores Rick, he isn't his biological son." She looks at Rick to see if he agrees with her.

"I still owe Juliette twenty dollars." Carl senior replies and he shows a toothy grin. "I know you can't wait to see your children, but they're sleeping upstairs. Don't wake them up, or Juliette will be furious." He adds.

"Just going to check on them," Rick says with a soft smile, and he gives his hand to Michonne to take.

* * *

Michonne and Rick find a room poorly lit, and bedsheets are thrown in the floor. Between sheets and intertwined legs, they can hardly draw the frame of their sons.

Carl and Andre have formed a small ball of tangled limbs, and they seem to shield each other. Carefully, Michonne attempts to break them apart, but it quickly turns out to be an impossible task.

Rick does not say much, and he only stares at Michonne attempting to place the children in a comfortable position. He ultimately moves away from the door, and he approaches Michonne.

"He's going to be fine?" At first, his words carry hesitation. He watches Andre repeatedly returning his arm around Carl's neck, and the little boy tightens his hug around Carl. "Carl is going to be fine. They're both going to be fine." Rick insists with unwavering belief, and he can feel the weight leave his shoulders.

He climbs on the bed, and he lies by his sons' side. Rick pointedly looks at Michonne, and she gives up in her attempt to pry Andre from Carl's arms. Michonne follows Rick's lead, and she lies by Andre.

They are crammed in a queen bed, and the concept of a family no longer feels abstract. He has a family, and they are going to be fine. Rick tangles his fingers between Carl's hair, and he feels relieved.

"I love you…"


	18. Chapter 18

**I don't own the walking dead**

 **Thanks for the review on the previous chapter. Thank you for patiently waiting. Three more chapter, and this fic is over. Good news I have everything written.**

 **Please review**

* * *

 **Chapter XVII: A corpse in the trunk**

* * *

 **Monday 3 a.m.**

"Where are you going?" Michonne whispers while Rick silently leaves the room.

Rick stops, and he returns toward the bed. Michonne watches his silhouette move with efficiency in the dark. He crouches by the bed to be at eye level with her. Michonne's hand immediately reaches for Rick, and he kisses her palm. She sighs and rubs the sleep away.

"You should be sleeping, princess," Rick's voice has kept the coarseness of sleep.

"You should follow your advice,"

Michonne's fingers close around his shirt, and she tightly holds on to Rick. Her nails scratch his collars while creases appear on his shirt. Rick wraps his hand around Michonne's one.

"I promise to be back," Rick decides to address Michonne's fear.

Michonne leaves the bed, and Rick rises with her. She does not want to disturb Carl and Andre, and so she leaves the room. Rick immediately joins her in the corridor.

Michonne stares at Rick, and she watches him pretend that he cannot read her thoughts. Somehow, he does not want to face his fear reflected in her anxious eyes.

"I want to know about the shit you're planning," Michonne yawns.

Rick defiantly cocks an eyebrow, but Michonne does not bulge.

"I'll worry less if I know why you're leaving," She asks with a pointed look at his appearance.

"I'm goin' to murder someone, princess." Rick deadpans with a certain amount of provocation.

He waits for Michonne to react. She blinks for a few seconds. Somehow, she forgot that side of Rick. How could Michonne remember his barbarism and ruthlessness when she sees him being a family man sharing a bed with their children?

"You don't have to know everything,"

Rick tenderly caresses Michonne's face, and she leans in his softer touch. She sighs, and she does not want to know how much their love cost.

"I want to save you," She feels the impulse to confess with a modest tone.

Michonne gazes at Rick to confirm that he understands what she needs to express. Rick chuckles, and it is out of amazement. MIchonne's random waves of innocence always astonish him. The horrors, which she endures the last months, have not ruined her soul. Nothing sounds more like Michonne than her statement.

"I don't need saving," Rick retorts when he retrieves his voice, "In case you have not noticed, I'm the man who coerced you into fucking me." He offhandedly says, "I isolated you, and I made you mistrust the police because I needed a good fuck..."

Michonne stares at Rick, and she notices the hidden anger. Every word is a response to an offence, which she never meant to do. "I ain't some lost soul. Sweetheart, don't do that," he flippantly adds. "Don't get your hope high, and I won't turn into a white lamb. You're not going to change me into a better man."

Michonne silently watches Rick, and she reads the hesitation. For a few seconds, she has no response to offer to his statement.

"I'm in love with you, and I ain't on the path for rebirth. I ain't your responsibility. If you want to work on saving soul, find a charity case," Rick finishes his frustrated rant.

There is more to his abrupt disappointment with her words. He does not want to be a pet project. Rick demands that Michonne loves him as the man whose time and experience have forged into a ruthless monstrosity.

"Tell me why you need to murder that man,"

Michonne wisely picks her battle. She recognises his vulnerability. She reaches for his hand when he takes too long to speak.

"Took your suggestion and decided to handle the situation with delicateness," Rick explains with twisted glee, "going to scare Eugene."

"Eugene?"

"The key to solving all my ...our problems," Rick corrects himself.

"And he needs convincing," She pursues in the line of Rick's implications.

Rick does not respond. His silence is a boisterous challenge, and he shows a clear interest into Michonne's intelligence.

"A corpse in the trunk," she slowly says.

Rick chuckles at the reference. There is almost a sense of pride toward how she thinks as fast as it does.

"So you're going to back him in a corner until he has no option but to align with the lesser of two evils," Michonne elaborates her theorisation of Rick's next move. "That plan only works if you cannot sense it," she finishes with a tone, which speaks volume.

"You had me fooled," Rick has a small smirk forming on his lips.

His fingers carefully frame Michonne's visage, and he looks in her eyes. Her glistening eyes are the opaque skylight to a brilliant mind, and it should not come as a surprise that she saw through his best play.

"fooled would imply that I won," Michonne counters," I figured you out."

Rick nods, and he becomes slightly curious. He cannot resist the impulse to ask.

"What gave me away?"

Michonne searches her memory for that singular moment when it became clear that Rick had a plan, which she could not counter.

"Your good cop act," She takes a few seconds to find the perfect words to explain the flaw in Rick's armour. "I'm a lawyer, although a rusty one, I can see when someone is following a script."

Rick is sceptical. He cocks an eyebrow, and he silently prompts Michonne to prove her claim. Michonne decides to drive her point across with a tangible explanation.

"Let's say everyone believes you're that friendly guy. They ignore the details. For me, it was easy to spot those details. When you went off script and bit Dixon's head off, he instinctively cowered. Now, Dixon is the ultimate piece of shit. If you deter him, you're dangerous. Add to it that you're openly undressing me with your eyes, and I'm uncomfortable with it for all the wrong reasons. I had to obsess about the details." Michonne finishes.

"That's a fucking smart way to say that you saw through me because you wanted to fuck me, and it didn't sit well with our perfect princess." Rick crudely summarises.

"Yes," She offers the most simplistic answer.

"So why did you let me win?"

Michonne laughs and she threads her fingers in Rick's curls.

"You didn't win. I compromised to win time, and so I could work out something. The arrangement was a bone." She softly says, and she waits for his wounded ego to surface.

However, it never does. Rick's eyebrows fly to his hairline. He is not only humbled, but he is curious. He quietly prompts Michonne to unfold her master plan.

"I had no intention to help you find Mike. I stupidly thought he would return, and we could run from you as a family." She shakes her head, and she adds a depreciative laugh.

"But you told me,"

Michonne smiles, and she cradles Rick's face. She leans closer to him, and she kisses him.

"I chose you. Forever the romantic, I wanted to run away with you." Michonne confesses.

* * *

 **Monday 3: 45 A.M.**

The pieces fall in place too effortlessly, and it unnerves Rosita. She throws the file after reading the first lines. She senses the oddness of the situation. Rosita's fixation explains her need for the truth. The word obsession sounds violent, and she prefers to think of it as an attraction.

Rosita has a strange fascination for Rick Grimes. Men like Rick do not attract her. However, Rick draws her. She blames her inclination on time, which she spends with him. That attraction drives her belief that Shane needs his named cleared. She wants Rick to have a sort of gratitude because she restored his best friend's name.

As for now, Rosita only finds incriminating shreds of evidence against Shane. Michonne is everywhere Rosita looks in Shane's apartment. She is an obsession for Shane. Every picture on the wall or the table corroborates Michonne's claims. However, Rosita refuses to believe Michonne's innocence. Her scepticism is not rational. It has jealousy as a foundation. Rosita saw how Rick looked at Michonne. There is reverence in the way he says her name. Those are details, which she cannot ignore.

Rosita shakes her head, and she struggles to quiet those clouded emotions. Her heart influences her judgement. However, she cannot help but portray Michonne as some Jezebel. Every thought ends with Michonne taking the role of the mastermind who unfolded the chaos, which is the Anthony murder.

She stares at the different pictures of Michonne. It is creepy how she is omnipresent in Shane's apartment. Between the photos, there is a robe, which belongs to Michonne. Rosita recognises it as the one, which she wore when she discovered her husband's body. The sight of the negligée repulses Rosita, and she wonders why Shane kept it.

Rosita drags a chair, and she stares at Shane's walls. Between Michonne's pictures, there are some of Rick's ones.

"Why was he following you?"

Rosita takes Rick's picture from the wall. She does not want to listen to her brain's suggestion. The connection is a simple thing to form. Rosita stands, and she picks Michonne's negligee. The blood has long dried on the silk, and it is evidence of Mike Anthony murder.

"Michonne," Rosita says, and her eyes drift on Rick's picture in her hand.

She wants to exonerate Shane for Rick's sake. It might be a hard task. However, she has a plan.

"Michonne," Rosita begins to pull the pictures from the wall. She pushes the robe in a bag, and she grabs anything of relevance. Rosita leaves Shane's apartment through the window, which she broke.

* * *

 **Monday 4: 25 A.M.**

"Tyrese says he woke up," Sasha announces as Rick exits his car.

Rick does not immediately reply, and he walks to the trunk of his car. He opens it, and he seizes the neck of a bound man in the back.

"Good," Rick replies," Handle this," Rick adds as he throws the car's key to Sasha.

Sasha catches the keys, and she enters the car, which belongs to Rick's future victim. She begins to check the glove box, and she throws out the things, which she considers of any value.

"A sadist," Sasha shows the hunter knife to Rick.

"I think it is a recruitment policy from these guys," Rick replies, "we're pieces of shit, but they take it a step further. " He chuckles.

Rick slightly shoves the savior.

"Well, think about it when you handle him," Sasha adds, and she continues to search the car. "No girlfriend, no loved one, and no one is going to look for him." She states when she finds nothing, which suggests any familial ties.

"I checked before, Sasha," Rick rolls his eyes," I haven't forgotten the rules. I created those rules." He deadpans.

"Excuse me for thinking that you're a reformed man," Sasha snorts, "you're retiring to be a good dad and the perfect husband," Sasha teases.

Rick laughs at his right hand's antics. He leans against the car, and he shoves the tied man to the ground. Rick searches through his pocket until Sasha passes him a cigarette. It is old and broken, and it belongs to a man who he is going to kill. Rick does not mind, and he lights the cigarette.

"I think she is going to ask me to stop soon," Rick sighs, and he blows the smoke from his cigarette. "Something about the children and smoke."

"You quit the biggest drug for her," Sasha points out," smoking is nothing compared to walking away from the empire, which you built."

Rick sucks his teeth, and he blows more smoke. He passes his hand through his hair.

"It's the right time for an exit," Rick sighs, "the princess has gone through enough shit, and I'm trying this present father thing." He draws more smoke from his half-consumed cigarette.

"She wouldn't leave you," Sasha knowingly says," Michonne almost shot Tyrese. I don't think she cares about your daily occupation." she adds.

Rick knowingly smirks, and he throws what left of the cigarette on the floor. He remains silent for a second. He does not doubt the veracity of Sasha's words.

"Do you regret dragging Daryl into this life?" He asks," I know she won't leave. The pure and pious princess would try to save me, and I would turn her into the most vicious bitch." Rick confesses, "I'm ready to be happy. It has a lot to do with Michonne, but she isn't my moral compass. You see this mess never ends. I'm fucking tired. Tyrese is over it, and you're fucking exhausted. I got the balls to stop before someone kills me for being an old fool like I did Deanna." Rick finishes speaking, and he moves away from the car.

"If you wonder, Michonne ain't mad at you," Rick adds while he closes the car's door.

"Alright," Sasha smiles, "I'm not mad she tried to kill us too," she adds with amusement.

Sasha's phone begins to ring, and she quickly picks it.

"It's Tyrese." She adds after a few minutes of conversation.

"Retirement has to wait," Rick jokes, and he crouches to grab the savior's neck, "A sadist hunh?"

* * *

 **Monday 7: 19 a.m.**

The room spins, and the bright led lights assault his eyes. Eugene immediately closes his eyes to stop the swaying motion. Each part of his body hurts. For a few seconds, he is confused. Last night's events give him whiplashes.

"Fuck,"

He attempts to sit, but he cannot move. He looks at his arm where sits handcuffs. Eugene's mouth is dry, and he has an atrocious headache. He moans and grunts at every movement, which he makes.

"Fuck," he cries while reaching for the other side of the bed.

"Might want some water..."

Eugene immediately recognises the voice. He stops moving as to no provoke him. The man already shot him once, and there is no need for a second time. Eugene clearly remembers the words, which he heard before fainting.

"Aaaaahh..." Eugene screams, and he begins to attempt to break free.

"For fuck sakes," Tyrese sighs, "don't be a fool! Screaming won't help you." He pulls out his police badge.

Tyrese drags a chair near Eugene's bed, and he casually sits.

"Half of the men out of this room are cops who would be jerking off at the thought of you screaming and suffering. You're a fucking cop killer in case you missed it." He deadpans.

Eugene does not care for Tyrese's words, and he screams louder. His survival instincts are presently kicking, and he needs to escape Tyrese.

"Room four o one," Tyrese says when he calls the nurse's desk," the patient is going through psychosis." He finishes.

Tyrese casually smiles, and he returns his attention toward Eugene.

"Maybe you need some meds to keep you in a vegetative state." He adds with a soft tone, which almost mimics empathy," After all, you're a psycho. I wonder who would get to you first. Negan? Any of these cops? You should scream louder and let them know you're awake."

Silence occurs in the room, and Eugene takes in Tyrese's words.

"You work for Negan," Eugene stutters.

Tyrese leans forward and he looks down on Eugene.

"I owe him," He corrects, and Tyrese knows what part he has to play in Rick's plan," I shot you, and you fucking survived. I guess I paid what I owed." He finishes with indifference, "Now, I work for the man with the best offer for your head."

Eugene freezes, and fear fills his eyes. He attempts to scream. Tyrese grabs the bedsheets covering Eugene, and he begins to shove it in Eugene's mouth.

"How did a bitch like you make it into the mob?" Tyrese wonders, "You're a fucking singer." He shoves the bedsheet with more strength. "Do you lack common sense? I have been alone with your ass before you opened those dumb-looking eyes. You're still breathing. Let's keep it that way."

Tyrese sighs, and he furiously looks at Eugene. He hates babysitting. However, he owes Rick one after last night.

"Your lil' head is precious," Tyrese continues, "Someone wants you alive." He sucks his teeth, "Negan wants you dead," He adds with an amused smile. "Either way, I win." Tyrese finishes speaking, and he pulls the sheet out of Eugene's mouth.

"I have money," Eugene blurts out.

Tyrese laughs, and he drags the chair impossibly close to Eugene's bed.

"You're going to jail as soon as you leave this bed," Tyrese points out.

"But you can get it," Eugene sounds desperate.

"You indeed lack common sense," Tyrese deadpans," What you had now belongs to the police. Whatever you have hidden will be under investigation. I'm not dumb. Taking your money is being a full-blown fool like yourself." Tyrese slowly draws a picture for Eugene, "Don't worry! I have offers for your head."

"I'm doubling what they're going to pay," Eugene insists.

"How sweet, you don't have that type of money," Tyrese mocks," That is big mob money. You know they're all after you." He adds with a look, which speaks for itself. "He is after you." Tyrese rises to leave the room.

"Who?" Eugene hurls with fear.

The nurse, who Tyrese called, enters the room. Tyrese takes hold of a screaming Eugene, and the nurse injects the sedative.

"Thank you," Tyrese tells the nurse.

She nods and leaves the room. Tyrese watches as Eugene begins to slip toward sleep.

"Goodnight, cop killer."

* * *

 **Monday 5 : 26 P.M.**

Rick wipes his hands, and he throws the knife by Daryl's feet. He looks around the room, and he sighs.

"Going to have to burn it," Daryl puts words on Rick's thought.

"Yeah," Rick agrees," It feels like I have been doing nothing else these last days," He adds while he slips out of his shirt, and he wipes his face to clean the blood staining it.

"This ain't the time to regret shit," Daryl knowingly points out, "I'm starting to be okay with this retiring plan."

Rick raises an eyebrow, and he is sceptical about Daryl's claim.

"Got into this mess for Sasha," Daryl reminds Rick," I'm glad to make it out alive. You should be glad too." Daryl drawls, and his facial expression drives the message across.

"What makes you believe that I ain't glad?" Rick counters.

"You look like shit, and it ain't because your wife died. You have your princess, and turns out that is enough pussy for you."

Rick chuckles, and he cannot argue with the truth. He does not know how to explain it. Rick's instincts are shouting that he made a mistake, but he fails to pinpoint when it happened.

"I fucked up," Rick plainly says.

Daryl stares at him for a few seconds, and he shrugs.

"Then fix it," Daryl deadpans.

Rick laughs, and he would like it to be so simple.

"If only I knew what I need to fix," Rick sighs, and he wears a clean shirt. "I will deal with it when the time comes."

* * *

 **Monday 7: 29 p.m.**

Tyrese convinces himself to remain calm when he returns to Eugene's room and find Rosita conducting an interrogatory. He looks around the room, and Rick's absence is alarming. When he notices that Eugene is in no state to respond lucidly, Tyrese feels relief.

"Do you want to fuck it over for all of us?" Tyrese asks as he drags a chair from across the room.

Rosita closes her carnet, and she turns to face Tyrese.

"You shouldn't have left him alone," She replies with annoyance," the man has been screaming like a lunatic about corrupted cops." She adds with a clear expression of frustration.

Tyrese remains himself not to panic. He looks at Eugene, who is nothing more than a blubbering mess. Tyrese laughs, and he forcefully conveys the mocking tone of his laugh.

"Did he not kill one?' Tyrese impassively asks.

"Maybe," She defiantly replies.

Rosita's tone displeases Tyrese, and it increases his suspicion. He decides to take a defensive stance.

"What else did he say?" Tyrese knowingly inquires.

Experience allows him to understand that Rosita is withholding information. Her demeanour only confirms Tyrese's doubts. She fails to hide her discomfort at Tyrese's question.

"He said that he killed the wrong man," Rosita reluctantly replies," He wanted to kill Shane Walsh," She adds with a quiet tone.

Tyrese looks at Rosita, and he would like to know the entirety of what Eugene said. However, he can formulate the question without steering her attention toward him. Tyrese reigns on his curiosity.

"Wonderful, we have a confession with no way to use it." Tyrese mockingly claps, "Don't they teach you how to do proper police work?" Tyrese says with disdain, and he needs to get rid of Rosita. "If it is to fuck up as you did now, you stay away from the suspect." He continues with his gaslighting, "You gave me legal ground to escape whatever obsessive thing that made you question a drugged suspect before his formal arrest. Do you know what the actual fuck you're dying?" Tyrese intimidatingly asks.

Rosita blinks the frustration away, and she cannot deny her mistake. She did not think clearly, and she has done so in a few days.

"It's my fucking suspect," Rosita refuses to back down.

"I remember your master asking to go play fetch," Tyrese counters with cynicism.

"Fuck you, Williams." Rosita begins to lose her temper.

Tyrese laughs and he is hiding his panic. Tyrese refuses to allow an enamoured woman to ruin their exit because Rick obsesses her.

"It won't help you into Grimes' bed." Tyrese smiles, "Now if you don't mind, some of us have the legal right to do our job." He dismisses Rosita.

She angrily walks out of the room. Tyrese drags his seat toward Eugene. He should have killed the man, but Rick and his ludicrous plan require the fool to remain alive. Tyrese has no trust for Rick's plot.

"What did you tell her, cop killer?"

Tyrese knows there is more behind Rosita's behaviour.

* * *

 **Monday 9: 15 p.m.**

The slap's impact awakens Eugene. He groans, but no sound leaves his mouth. He tastes the fabric on the tip of his tongue. Eugene begins to panic, and it leads to the cold blade of a knife caressing his neck.

"I heard you're a banshee," He tugs the gag around Eugene's mouth. "Remember me?" The man fills Eugene's vision field.

Rick pulls the knife away from Eugene's throat.

"Of course you do if you tried to kill me," Rick grins, and he looks at Eugene with amusement, "Ungrateful fuck!" He shakes his head in disapproval. "That ain't a way to thank your saviour." Rick raises his knife in hope Eugene will recognise it.

From the immediate quietness falling on the room, Eugene does recognise the hunting knife.

"Doesn't look like anything you can forget. Your lil' friend could wait to slice your throat with it." Rick pulls his phone out of his pocket, "A get well soon gift," He places the screen in front of Eugene's eyes.

For painful minutes, Eugene has to watch a recording of Rick killing the man, who Negan sent to kill him. The cruelty terrifies Eugene, and he cannot move. Rick removes the gag from Eugene's mouth, and Eugene takes a deep breath. Rick stops the recording because Eugene is on the verge of vomiting. He returns the phone to his pocket.

"A thank you goes a long way," Rick drawls," What an ungrateful bastard; your mama would be ashamed." He chuckles, "but you're a rational coward." Rick points out, and he waits for Eugene to play the game.

"Please..." Eugene cries, "Don't kill me...Please," He begs, "I won't say anything."

Rick drags a chair closer to Eugene's bed, and he unceremoniously sits.

"Shush," Rick pets Eugene's head, "I want you to sing for the cops. I want you to say everything you know. Negan will send some else unless you send him to jail." He adds, "you killed a cop for Negan, and now, he wants you dead."

"Please," Eugene continues to beg.

"Relax," Rick says, "I want you alive and talking." He lights a cigarette, and Eugene flinches. "It was a fork last time." He jokes, "you want to live." Eugene wants to speak, and Rick shoves back the gag in Eugene's mouth. "I can make it happen. I can help you get less time. You only have to talk to the cops. Tell them everything about the books, Negan, and why you killed Shane Walsh." Rick pursues, "The offer expires when I walk out of this room." He removes the gag.

Rick stands without asking for Eugene's answer. He does not need to wait, and Eugene begins to call after him.

"Wait," He hurls while Rick opens the door, "He buried the girl," Eugene says with desperation, "I know where Negan buried Andrea."

Rick closes the door, and he turns to face a sweating Eugene.

"I said talk to the cops," Rick smirks," and another thing," He marks the pause by sucking his teeth," Don't go around saying that you killed the wrong man. To Rosita, it's okay, but to anyone else, I will have to kill you." Rick casually adds.

He walks back to Eugene, and he crouches to be at eye level with Eugene.

"What are going to do tomorrow?" Rick asks.

"Say everything to the cops." Eugene rushes to reply. "I killed Shane Walsh because he stole Negan's book. Andrea stoles the book... Negan buried her." He continues to say more to placate Rick.

"Good," Rick leaves Eugene's room.


End file.
